


Castle Under Stone

by VOlympianlove



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Twelve Dancing Princesses Fusion, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21392050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOlympianlove/pseuds/VOlympianlove
Summary: Yixing never meant to find Castle Under Stone. But he did, in the wake of his mother's death and in opening the gateway, began to unravel the secrets of the crown... and his own family.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, implied!Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: ExOnce Upon A Time: Round II





	1. The Gateway Opens

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally meant to be a short 7-8k piece where I retell the Twelve Dancing Princesses but it stretched out to a full ass novella. Anyone who listened to me rant about holy water and my fic running away from me, thank you so much for letting me be crazy and weird. 
> 
> To beanie, I'm sorry for causing you such stress over how my fic turned monstrously large AHAHAHAH And to everyone who read my fic and gave me advice (read: encouraged the holy water fiasco) thank you, y'all are the best!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his grief, Yixing danced to remember his mother. Only to accidentally open a magical gateway to what seemed like the perfect paradise for a prince.

The coffin was lowered into the ground with a final thud and Yixing swallowed back a sob. His fingers curled tighter into Junmyeon’s shirt as his brother gathered him close, Baekhyun balanced on his hip, too young to really understand what everything meant.

The day was grey and drizzly, rain misting down from the heavens to blur the world and he could barely see their father, all the way at the front with his head bowed, his black brimmed hat shielding his face from the downpour.

Soft strains of orchestral music played as the crowd began to dissipate and their father returned to them, his lips pressed in a thin line.

He rested a hand upon Junmyeon’s shoulders and steered them, without a word back towards the warmth of the castle.

Yixing clung to Junmyeon when their father left them in the Great Hall, vanishing up the stairs and into his study. He did not reappear again, not even for dinner.

No matter how much he begged, the servants would not let him even near the study, shooing him away repeatedly. His brother found him crying as if his heart would break on the floor beside the staircase, curled up into a ball wailing for their father.

Junmyeon let him sleep in his bed that night, the three of them, Yixing, Junmyeon and Baekhyun, curled up close.

Yixing heard his brother cry that night, soft trembling sobs that he struggled to contain.

“Myeonie?” he murmured, and the sobs stopped. Junmyeon shifted and in the single ray of moonlight that fell past the drapes in the windows, Yixing could see the tear tracks on his face.

“I’m okay.” Lips pressed against his forehead and Yixing cuddled up even closer, tucking his face into the crook of his brother’s neck, “go to sleep, Yixing.”

-

“No more dancing, not unless you’ve been invited to balls,” the proclamation near shattered Yixing’s heart.

Their father had vanished into his study for a week, not even appearing for meals and Junmyeon did his best to keep them from falling apart. He had tucked them into bed, sent them to their lessons and even ordered Yixing new dance shoes to keep his mood up.

Yifan, the cobbler, had promised those shoes to be in by the end of the week.

“But Papa-,” he tried and his father’s gaze levelled onto him, sharp and piercing. Yixing trembled even as he tried to protest.

“No more dancing, no more music. We are in mourning now, do you understand?” His tone was stone cold, with no regard for his son’s already cracked heart.

“Mother wouldn’t want us to-,” his father cut him off, his expression as dark as thunderclouds.

“Your mother is dead, Yixing. Music and dancing will not bring her back.”

Yixing sniffled, unable to stop the tears that were beginning to drip down his face, like little silver streams. Mother loved to dance.

She loved her music, could play the pianoforte and sing like an angel. She was the one who taught him all the dances he knew and the best way he could think of to remember her was to dance, to sing, to play the pianoforte as if his heart depended on it.

But now, he did not have even that.

“Yixing-.” he ignored his brother’s weak cry of his name and Baekhyun’s confused wails as he spun around, breaking into a run.

The steep stairs stole his breath away as he ran up all of them, the tears pouring down his face. He tripped and nearly fell, his blood roaring in his ears at the unfairness of it all.

He slammed the door to his bedroom open so hard that he startled the chambermaids. They all fled as he threw himself onto his bed and cried as if his heart had broken anew.

No one came for him, not even Junmyeon, though he could hear him pacing outside his door. He could hear Baekhyun too, crying softly and Junmyeon’s soft murmurs as he tried to soothe their younger brother.

The maids left dinner outside the door and he ate it, though it had grown cold by the time he ventured outside.

Slipping from his room, he headed for the library, in search of the book of stories his mother always read for him. They were ballet stories and he loved each and every one of them, from Coppélia to the Firebird.

He winced when he set his foot down on a creaky floorboard, holding his breath. For a beat, he froze into place, listening for any footsteps coming down the hallway but there was nothing but the silence of the night.

The door swung silently as he crept in, the lights dimmed. With a quick flick of a match, he lit the oil lamps, closing the door quietly behind him.

It did not take him long to find the book, always tucked into the same shelf as it always was. He tugged it out of its place, the leather soft against his fingers.

The covers were worn and stained where little hands had touched it over and over again, night after night. Even when he had entered adulthood, his mother had never tired of reading the stories and Yixing never tired of hearing them, creeping into Baekhyun’s room when she read them to hear her do the voices of the characters.

Humming to himself, he took one step, and another, the trill of music floating through his mind as he flipped through the pages, skimming the rich, jewel toned illustrations and handwritten words.

Mother had taught him the steps to Swan Lake and it was a dance he would always remember. The music was iconic, ingrained in his mind as he traced the steps on the dusty carpet in partial darkness, the oil lamps flickering and casting strange shadows on the walls.

He extinguished the lamps, slipping out of the library as quietly as he could.

Safely back in his room, Yixing retraced the steps over the circular mosaic on his bedroom floor, imagining that his mother was the one playing the music in his head.

He was deep into the steps, sweat dripping down the back of his neck when there was the sound of something grinding, like stone rubbing against stone.

The prince’s steps stuttered to a stop and he froze.

He stumbled away with a little cry when a single stone in the mosaic sank down, as if it had been pulled from beneath, terror clutching at his heart.

Yixing bolted for his bed, yanking the covers off and sliding beneath them. He tugged the covers above his head, trembling when the grinding stopped.

For a beat, there was silence.

Slowly, the prince slid out from beneath his covers, his eyes widening when he saw the massive crater that had just appeared into the middle of his bedroom where the mosaic had once been.

A head appeared and Yixing jumped, clutching the coverlet so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He watched in mounting terror as boot heels clicked, getting louder and louder until there was a figure in his room, body draped in shadow.

The oil lamps in the room flickered and went out the moment the figure took a single step forward. The temperature dropped, as if his very presence chilled the room.

Yixing stared, frozen in place as delicate fingers dropped back the jet-black hood, revealing a very handsome face.

“Hello.”

Fear exploded through him like a firecracker, numbing out all other emotion.

The prince screamed, his heart beating so loudly in his chest that he could not hear anything else. He screamed and screamed even when the figure’s face twisted with worry and concern until the door slammed open and Junmyeon was there.

“Yixing, Yixing!”

He was suddenly wrapped in his brother’s arms, tears that he did not know he had dripping down his face. Junmyeon was holding him, his heart beating steadily away under his ear.

He was warm and safe and Junmyeon was holding him. His brother was there.

Yixing shuddered and sobbed, burying his face into Junmyeon’s chest and Junmyeon let him, uncaring of the tears that soaked into his night shirt. They stayed like that, Junmyeon standing as close as he could to the bed, with Yixing cuddled into his arms.

“What happened?” His brother’s voice was gentle and familiar as fingers smoothed through his hair. Yixing shook his head and pressed his face against Junmyeon’s chest, whimpering.

“There was… There’s a man,” he stammered, pointing in the direction of the mosaic circle.

They both looked up at the same time and to Yixing’s horror, there was nothing there.

There was no sign of the man who came in shadow, no indication that the pretty mosaic stones had ever moved from their place.

Yixing slid off the bed, stumbling into his brother and nearly tripping over his feet as he stared.

“No, there was- there was a man!” he cried, trembling from head to toe. Junmyeon’s face was creasing in concern and then he was curling arms around him, pulling him closer.

“There was a man! He came from the floor!” Yixing could hear just how hysterical he sounded, half wild with terror and shock. He wrenched out of his brother’s arms, staggering over to the mosaic.

“Yixing!” Junmyeon yelped when his knees buckled, running to catch him before he fell. One knee struck the ground hard, sending electric shocks of pain up Yixing’s leg. He knelt, the tiles of the mosaic rough on his skin as he touched them, his eyes disbelieving.

“Yixing.” Junmyeon was feeling his forehead, where beads of sweat had gathered. Yixing squirmed but could not break free.

“Junmyeon, hyung, please. I saw him, I saw-,” Yixing cut himself off, trembling. His brother pressed a kiss against his hair, fingers combing through the mussed strands soothingly.

“You’re alright, Xing. You’re alright. It was a bad dream,” Junmyeon murmured, rocking his brother back and forth, as if he were a child again. Yixing shuddered, another sob tearing through his throat as his brother kissed him again, this time on the forehead.

He tucked himself under Junmyeon’s chin, a trying task, for he was already taller than he but it made him feel a little better, being small and squished up in his brother’s arms.

They stayed like that, until Yixing was no longer shaking, and the sweat on his brow had dried.

A soft wailing began and Yixing clung closer when Junmyeon shifted with a sigh.

“I have to go check on him,” he murmured gently, brushing back strands of hair from Yixing’s face.

“Can’t Father go?” Yixing mumbled. He knew he should not be selfish, he was twenty-one, an adult and he should not need his brother as much as he did. Baekhyun needed him more.

“Father’s asleep.” Junmyeon dropped a final kiss against his brow and rose, Yixing following like a little puppy.

He allowed his brother to tuck him back into bed and smooth the covers over him, just like Mother used to do, holding back the tears until Junmyeon was out of the room.

Then he let himself cry anew, clutching the book he had stolen from the library close to his chest.

-

“Junmyeon?” He felt like a three-year-old as he stood beside his brother, watching him tuck Baekhyun into bed.

Their little brother had been fussy and had wanted Junmyeon to sleep with him but with a lot of soothing, and some furtive looks at the door, Junmyeon had sung him to sleep.

His brother’s eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and he looked sunken, almost hollow when he raised his head.

Yixing felt bad for asking, but he was afraid. He could not shake the feeling that there was still something in his room, a strange cold feeling that made his skin crawl and his stomach tie itself into knots.

“Will you sing me to sleep too?” Junmyeon pursed his lips, sighing through his nose and Yixing could feel tears prick at his eyes.

He hated that he was so afraid, now that Mother was gone.

“Let’s go then.” His brother smoothed a hand over Baekhyun’s forehead, pressing one last kiss to his nose before turning from the room.

The hallways were dark and Yixing’s skin prickled as they walked down to his room. He stuck close to his brother, one hand curling around Junmyeon's elbow. Junmyeon did not seem to mind, wrapping an arm around his waist to tug him closer.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Yixing murmured and Junmyeon looked up at him with tired eyes and a faint smile.

"It's alright," he whispered back.

Yixing had never found his room cold or unwelcoming but it felt that way now, when they pushed open the door, the giant mosaic on the floor suddenly seeming like it could be a gateway to another world.

Junmyeon walked over to the windows as Yixing slid into bed, drawing the heavy velvet drapes apart so that moonlight shone into the room.

"Mother's here," he said so softly that Yixing barely heard him. The sentiment made hot tears prick at his eyes and he swallowed, tugging the covers up to his chin. He remembered that, when Mother was sick. She had told that they would always have her, that she would always be there for them, no matter what happened.

As long as the moon shone every night, she was there. The thought made Yixing a little less afraid as Junmyeon came to sit beside him, already humming a familiar lullaby. He closed his eyes, reaching for his brother's hand as Junmyeon began to sing, his voice silky smooth and soothing to his ears.

He could see the stars behind his eyelids, the forest in the stories that mother used to tell when she sung the song, the moonlight streaming through the window. The darkness slipped away as he let himself drown in his brother's voice, sweet and gentle.

In his dream, he was in his room once more, his mother seated beside him. His favourite stories were open before her and she was reading aloud, making it a game as she wove the words into simple little melodies that he could repeat.

He smiled, savouring the feel of her hands in his as the music drifted through the air.

It was their special connection, a special song and dance that she made for him and it was carved into Yixing's brain and muscle memory.

They were arriving at the end of the story, his mother getting up from her place to dance his special dance, when the mosaic creaked beneath her feet. Yixing flinched, crying out in terror but his mother did not seem afraid.

She kept on dancing, and dancing, even as the stones ground and moved beneath her feet, revealing a staircase that spiralled down and down into the darkness and he could no longer see the bottom.

Heavy footfalls echoed on the stairs and Yixing clutched at his coverlet, terrified. It was just a dream and his mother did not seem afraid.

In fact, she was still dancing, a smile frozen on her face as she spun and twirled, her feet light and graceful.

“Hello.”

It was the same man from the past night, dropping back his hood to smile disarmingly at Yixing.

“Mama?” He pleaded faintly and the man turned to look at his mother. His breath caught when his mother took his hand, her smile so sweet as she gazed upon him.

“Say hello, little star, don’t be rude,” she admonished and Yixing glanced at the strange man, who was bending to press a kiss against his mother’s knuckles.

“Hello?” he murmured faintly. If Mother knew him, this man could not be all bad, right?

The man smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth that gleamed in the darkness. His skin was tanned, almost greyish in the dim light when he extended his hand.

“I’m Kai,” he said, taking a tentative step towards Yixing, as if afraid that he would scream again.

Yixing remained still, allowing him to come right up to his bed.

His skin was unnaturally cold when he took up his hand, pressing plush lips against his knuckles, the very picture of chivalry.

“I’m Yixing,” Yixing stuttered, his cheeks flushing at the gesture. No one had kissed his hand like that in a very long time.

His mind briefly reminded him of the cobbler, who had come to visit before Mother’s death. His smile had been just as charming.

“I am Prince Under Stone,” Kai murmured, executing a perfect bow and the image of Yifan the cobbler was dashed from his mind.

“Under Stone?” He questioned and the prince nodded, gesturing towards the staircase.

“My father’s lands lie beneath this staircase. It is a lovely place, full of music and dance.”

Those were the magic words, to a prince who was no longer permitted to play and dance in his own home.

“May I-?” Yixing stuttered, stealing a glance at the figure of his mother, standing peacefully by the staircase.

As if he read his thoughts, Kai smiled.

“You are welcome to visit,” he answered, “but not tonight.”

Yixing’s spirits fell but rose again when Kai continued.

“Not tonight, for this is only a dream. Tomorrow night, I will come to get you. Only if you desire, of course.”

“I do,” Yixing started, his teeth clamping down on his lower lip at just how eager he sounded.

He was starved to dance. Dancing in his bedroom at midnight was nothing compared to a big, fancy ballroom with a full orchestra.

-

True to his word, the dark prince Kai came the following night, the mosaic stones grating on his ears as they shifted, transforming into the staircase that Yixing had seen before.

Yixing was still afraid, huddled up beneath his covers, but Kai’s face was kind and he did not push.

“Your Highness,” he bowed, extending his hand and Yixing could not help but admire his form. He was a dancer from head to toe, he could see it in every line of his body to the very tips of his fingers.

“Kai?” he called his name quietly, testing its weight on his tongue. It was a good name, very princely.

The prince bowed in response and the way his lips curled had Yixing’s heart stuttering in response.

He really was an incredibly attractive man.

He slid out of bed, suddenly aware that he was in his nightclothes.

“I- I should change-,” he stuttered but the prince shook his head, still smiling.

“There’s no need, your highness. We will provide the clothes. You will look ravishing, I promise.”

Taken by surprise, Yixing could only nod, slipping his fingers into the proffered hand. Kai’s skin was oddly cold, but he supposed with a title like Prince Under Stone, it must be a place without much warmth.

His cheeks flushed a little when the prince kissed his knuckles, reminiscent of what he had done in his dream.

“Your shoes, Your Highness,” Kai reminded him kindly and Yixing dropped his hand, flushing. He snatched up the shoes from where he had left them sitting, lacing them up as quickly as he could.

Already, adrenaline was beginning to run its course, delight taking over his fear. The staircase was dark and the air smelled slightly damp, as if they were entering a cellar. Yixing wrinkled his nose as darkness swallowed them.

There was an archway at the bottom of the stairs and as they stepped out, his feet sank into something cold and soft. He looked down and gasped.

It was grass, green and ticklish against his ankles as they walked. He looked up and gasped once more.

A forest of trees stood before them, at least, what he thought was a forest. But it was strange and otherworldly. The trees were silver, from the roots all the way to the tiniest leaf.

Unable to believe his eyes, he reached out, fingers brushing against the trunk of the nearest one.

“Are they real?” he gaped, very aware of how foolish he had to look. The prince’s amused gaze burned into him but he could not bring himself to care.

He had never seen anything like this.

“Yes, they are, Your Highness.” Kai’s voice was patient. He reached up, plucking a twig from the branch. The silver snapped as easily as a normal twig, with a resounding crack. Yixing stared as he was handed the silver twig, real and solid in his hand.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, returning the twig to the prince. Kai tossed the twig back into the forest and they continued on.

For a forest, it was eerily silent, though Yixing thought nothing could possibly live down there. They were essentially underground, after all.

The forest opened out to a massive lake, its waters a jet-black sheet. It stretched out on either side, going on for miles in length. Yixing saw a glimmering castle across the shore, could actually hear the music from where he stood on the bank.

A silver gondola was waiting for them, complete with silver oars.

Kai stepped in first, reaching out a hand to help him in.

The boat wobbled when he moved but Kai’s arm was steady. Yixing settled in the stern, gazing across the lake as the prince picked up the oars.

The lake glittered, like the sky at midnight, its waters rippling like the smoothest silk and beyond, the castle gleamed.

It did not take long for them to arrive on the opposite shore.

Yixing’s heart soared as the music floated through the air, a lively tune that brightened his day just a little more.

“Oh, that sounds lovely.”

He smiled as Kai helped him out, distracted by the pearly dance floor and marble archways.

So distracted was he that he did not notice Kai pressing up against him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. His eyes were coals burning into him as he whispered.

“Don’t touch any of the food and drink here, if you still wish to leave by daybreak,” the words were soft, but the implication was clear.

Yixing nodded. He was hardly interested by the food, the music far more alluring.

Kai led him out onto the dance floor and the orchestra ceased their playing. With a quick nod, they changed their tune, to a lovely slow waltz, perfect for him to warm up with.

Endorphins flooded through Yixing as Kai led the dance, his lips lifting into a delighted smile as he was spun and twirled through familiar steps.

The music was intoxicating, dripping and trilling through his veins. It filled him up, brimmed and spilled over, and he could see only Kai, his partner, spinning across the dance floor.

Kai was an excellent dancer, and a wonderful partner. His movements were as fluid as the lake, soft and almost boneless in their motion.

Yixing laughed his way through a happy salsa, Kai breaking into a grin at the sight of him. It was liberating, being free to dance as much as he liked, the music like a shot of adrenaline through his bloodstream.

He barely even noticed the passage of time, only that they danced and danced until the music finally ceased and Kai held him in his arms.

Yixing laughed when he took a step, wobbled and almost fell. He looked down at his dance shoes.

They were completely worn through, all the way down to the sole.

“Did you have a good time?” Kai asked as he rowed them back across the lake. His eyes were shining and he did not seem to have broken a sweat at all that rigorous dancing.

Yixing on the other hand, was breathless and exhausted. But happy. He was so very happy.

“I did,” he said earnestly, staring at Kai’s face, “may I come again another time?”

Kai softened, his smile impossibly kind as he said, “you may come as often as you wish. Every night, if you so desire.”

Yixing’s heart leapt at the very thought and he clutched at the prince’s hand when he was helped out of the boat.

Kai walked him as far as the staircase and the sun was already shining through the windows by the time he made his way back into his room on his own.

Tugging the ruined shoes from his feet, he dropped them onto the floor and kicked them beneath his bed, his feet sore and aching but his heart full from dancing.

It felt as if his head had only just touched the pillow when someone shook him awake.

He stirred groggily, nudging at the person who was shaking him.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he slurred, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Junmyeon’s disapproving face swam before him and he sat bolt upright.

“What time is it?”

“Time for your sword fighting lessons,” his brother said curtly, tugging the covers from his grasp.

Yixing still felt rather sleepy and groggy as he rose, the servants rushing in to help him in his bath.

The warm water was heavenly on his skin and he would have fallen asleep in the bath had Junmyeon not rapped loudly on the door, insisting that he hurry.

Breakfast was a rushed affair, Yixing almost falling face first into his oatmeal. He was still tired by the time he arrived at the arena, Junmyeon already beginning his lesson.

“Slept in, didn’t you?” The sword master rapped his knuckles against Yixing’s head, his lips pulled with disapproval. He thrust a practice sword into the prince’s hand and gestured for him to join his brother.

Yixing obliged, still yawning.

Junmyeon was frowning when they began sparring, Yixing’s thrusts and jabs sloppy and almost uncoordinated. He barely managed to side step an easy jab, stumbling and nearly tripping over his boots.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Yixing looked up when Junmyeon grumbled at him, striking at his hilt hard enough to jar his wrist. He winced and shrugged his shoulders, taking a step back before his brother could take another stab at him.

“Just tired,” he yawned, and Junmyeon stepped forward, jabbing his sword under his guard. He ended up with the tip of the wooden sword pressed against his chest.

“Perk up, Prince Yixing! Your brother will beat you twice before you’re awake,” the sword master growled, stalking over to them.

“I’m sorry,” Yixing grimaced, wiping a hand over his brow. He was already sweating, the sun beating down heavily upon them.

Junmyeon frowned at him, lifting his sword again.

“Are you alright?” His brows were creased with concern and Yixing wanted to smooth it away. He hated to worry his brother.

“Fine,” he replied, raising his sword, “let’s go again.”

-

Yixing was exhausted by the time they were finished.

As he slumped over to hand the practice sword over to a servant, something hard and small slammed into his legs, nearly toppling him over.

“Woah!” he laughed, though his vision swam for a bit. He crouched down and his lips could not help lifting into a smile when he saw Baekhyun’s grinning face.

“Hyung is all gross!” he squealed when Yixing wrapped his arms around him, picking him up. Despite the faces he made, he still leaned into the hug, wrinkling his nose. Yixing’s heart warmed when he heard Junmyeon laugh from behind him, walking over to tweak Baekhyun’s nose.

“You’re getting all gross too, Hyunnie,” he teased, “you’ll need another bath after this.”

Baekhyun squirmed and Yixing turned to allow him to crawl into Junmyeon’s arms, their brother similarly sweaty.

“Bath together?” he asked sweetly and Junmyeon laughed once more, hefting him. They exchanged glances.

“Shall we race to the baths?” Yixing raised an eyebrow. He was down.

“Let’s go!” he laughed as he broke into a run first, Junmyeon and Baekhyun hollering protests from behind him.

He was already in the lead when a figure rounded the corner and he skidded to a stop, his cheeks flushed from exertion, chest heaving.

“Father,” he panted, bending over to catch his breath.

“You’re a cheater!” Junmyeon laughed as they too, rounded the corner and Yixing’s blood chilled at the disapproval in their father’s eyes. He dropped his head and he saw the very moment Junmyeon’s eyes fell upon their father.

The hall was silent for a beat, one terrifying beat.

“Have you forgotten that we are in mourning, boys?”

The king’s tone was tight, strained with anger and Yixing did not think he could flush any more. Junmyeon too, was completely silent, still clutching Baekhyun to his chest.

They had to look a sight, both princes sweating and heaving, with their hair windblown and ruffled.

Yixing ducked his head, biting his lip harshly when their father’s burning gaze was directed to Junmyeon.

“I expected better from you, Junmyeon.”

The sentence hung heavily in the air, even when he had left, footstep echoing down the hallway.

Baekhyun, still cuddled in his brother’s arms, sniffled, as if he had sensed the heavy atmosphere.

With a sigh, Junmyeon set him down, ruffling his hair gently.

“We’ll walk to the baths okay?” he said and Baekhyun looked up at him with teary eyes, clinging to his pants.

“I want Mama,” he whispered and it was enough to widen the crack in Yixing’s already broken heart.

“Come on Baekhyun.” He reached for his brother’s hand, Baekhyun taking it hesitantly.

Together, they walked to the baths, solemn and silent.

The cheerful mood of the day had been disrupted and Yixing could not find it in himself to be happy.

He wandered to Mother’s gardens, settling at her favourite bench to think.

The roses that she loved so much were blooming, filling the air with their fragrance. She had perfume made from their petals and different roses produced mildly different scents.

Yixing was just reaching out to brush his fingers over the nearest rose when a voice startled him.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” He looked up, a smile stretching across his face when he saw the golden head.

“Yifan!” He leapt up from his seat as the cobbler walked over, carrying a large box in his arms.

Yifan looked around sneakily, and put a finger to his lips as he set down the box, lips pulling to a gummy grin. Yixing dropped onto his knees before the box, completely ignoring the fact that he would get grass stains on his pants.

The box was made of wood and sturdy as he lifted the lid, practically dancing with excitement.

“Ohh,” the prince sighed at the sight of the perfect dancing shoes, stacked in pairs of white, beige and black. There were two pairs of each colour and when he pulled them out, the satin gleamed in the sunlight.

“Try them on,” Yifan urged and Yixing obliged, slipped the shoe over his foot. It fit perfectly, the way Yifan’s shoes always did.

He put the other one on, grinning when the cobbler held out his arms.

“Did Junmyeon get you to make more?” he asked curiously as he took Yifan’s hand. It was much larger than his and warm as the cobbler led him through a series of easy dance steps.

The fabric was soft and molded to his foot as he danced.

The way Yifan held him reminded him starkly of the dark prince but Yifan was so much softer around the edges. His smile was fond and Yixing found himself leaning into him, his embrace warm and safe.

He laughed when Yifan picked him up off the ground, swinging him through the air almost effortlessly.

Yifan laughed with him even as he set him down, Yixing twirling away playfully to tease him. He felt almost weightless as he spun back, Yifan catching his hand.

“Yixing!” They spun around to see Junmyeon glaring from the other end of the garden. His hair was damp from his bath and he was frowning so deeply that Yixing could see the crease between his brows from where he stood.

A hot flush spread across his face at being caught and he wrenched out of Yifan’s grip, and would have fallen to the ground had Yifan not caught him.

The cobbler’s cheeks were tinted pink as well, as he set Yixing carefully down on the bench, as if he was a delicate flower.

“Dancing is forbidden, Yixing,” Junmyeon whisper-yelled, half in alarm and half in anger, “did you want Father to take your shoes away?”

Yixing ducked his head, the glow of dancing slowly fading away. He had not considered it. Yifan’s lips were pinched, apologetic as he bowed to the crown prince.

“It wasn’t his fault, Your Highness,” he said quietly, “I may have enticed him a little.”

The cobbler’s voice was a little wistful as he continued, “he’s a lovely dancer.”

Yixing’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink at the compliment and Junmyeon looked only a little mollified as he grabbed his wrist.

“I’ll have the servants send the shoes up, won’t you stay for lunch, Yifan?”

The cobbler looked startled at the invitation, his eyes immediately flitting to Yixing. Yixing chewed his lip.

“I suppose I will, if His Highness wills me to,” he said slowly and Yixing gave him a little smile, his heart fluttering when the cobbler returned it.

Junmyeon was looking between the two of them with an exasperated glance, though a smile was beginning to bloom on his lips.

“Come on then,” he jerked his head, still holding on to Yixing.

-

“You look well,” Kai murmured as Yixing curled his fingers around his arm. The moonlight lit upon his face and his eyes gleamed like pools.

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from Yixing’s face and Yixing blushed.

The prince was still dressed in his nightclothes, his new shoes laced on his feet.

“I feel well,” he replied honestly and Kai grinned, his teeth almost unnaturally white in the darkness.

“Shall we?” Yixing felt his heart flutter when the prince folded into a neat bow, his arm extended.

The night blurred as he danced, Kai holding him delicately in his arms.

His feet hurt by the time they left, the short green grass poking against some blisters left by the shoe.

He had to keep a good grasp on Kai’s arm, pleading for him to stop before they could even arrive at the staircase.

“Wait, wait!” He gasped, stumbling and nearly falling. Kai skidded to a stop, his brows creased with concern.

“What is it?”

Yixing crouched, untying the ribbons that held the shoe to his foot. He winced as they came off, crusted with blood from broken skin and popped blisters.

“I have to take these off,” he grimaced, tugging off the other shoe.

The shoes themselves were in bad shape, worn through, just like they had been the night before.

“Ouch,” he murmured, brushing a delicate finger over the bruises and blood.

Kai tugged at his arm.

“I know they hurt but you must go quickly. The gateway will be sealed by sunrise.”

The thought of being locked in spurred Yixing forward and he made it to his bedroom clutching his shoes before collapsing onto the bed, his magical clothes fading from him as he slid beneath the covers.

Every night, Kai fulfilled his promise, taking Yixing beneath to the castle across the black lake. They danced until his shoes were worn through and the sun was rising.

Kai had an uncanny knack for telling when the sun was about rise even with no way to tell time in the castle.

They had been dancing for a week or two, when Kai introduced him to his father, King Under Stone.

The king made Yixing’s skin crawl.

He radiated the same sort of fear that Kai had the very first night he had appeared in his bedroom. His eyes were onyx stones, black and glittering when he raked them up and down the prince.

Yixing tried hard not to show his unease when the king released them back to dance. His head throbbed strangely and he tripped over his steps when Kai led him in a simple waltz.

The night seemed exceptionally long and he was practically dead on his feet by the time Kai took him to the boat.

“I don’t think I can dance again tomorrow night,” he said softly and Kai’s expression twisted.

“Why not?”

Yixing was taken aback by the tone of the prince’s voice. He sounded almost angry.

Warily, he bent, undoing the ribbons of his shoes. The shoe fell away, revealing a multitude of bruises and blisters.

“They hurt, and I’m exhausted,” he replied. Kai looked incredibly indifferent as he studied the wounds.

“I can take them away tomorrow, like I’ve always done,” he said dismissively.

Yixing winced and shook his head.

“I’m tired, Kai. I’m not like you. I’ve barely had seven hours of sleep within the past days.”

Indeed, he was keeping Junmyeon up with his lack of sleep. His appetite had dropped, despite the furious dancing and he knew his brother was worried.

“My father will be disappointed if you do not dance,” Kai said stiffly, his black eyes focused on the rippling in the water. His arms never stopped rowing, until the boat bumped against the bank and he rose, setting down the oars.

Yixing slipped off his shoes, draping the ribbons over his arm.

Kai’s palm was as cold as ice when he set his hand into it, the prince helping him from the boat.

“Kai-,” Yixing hated to end the night on such a sour note but a hand sliding into his hair and lips pressing against his stopped him.

He gasped and Kai’s arm slid around his waist, pulling him close.

“I will miss you if you do not come,” Kai murmured against his lips, Yixing staggering when he released him.

His eyes glittered like onyx stones as he lifted the prince’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

Yixing’s heart tripped.

He watched the staircase close, Kai’s black eyes burning into him before he limped over to his bed, dropping his ruined shoes onto the floor.

How could he possibly say no to that?

-

“What is the meaning of this?” Yixing’s heart stuttered when he stepped into the room, only to be faced with both Junmyeon and his father staring back at him.

Junmyeon’s face was pale and his father looked absolutely livid, his face flushed red with anger.

Yixing’s heart almost stopped when he noticed what his father held in his hand.

It was a shoe.

_His _shoe, to be clear.

It was worn through, all the way down to the sole, the fabric already torn and faded from its original splendour.

“You’ve been dancing.”

It was not a question.

His father’s eyes burned into him and Yixing felt panic begin to well up inside him. He could not be discovered.

Dancing with Kai was one of his only great pleasures and he could not have that be taken away.

“Where have you been going, Xing?” Junmyeon looked more worried than angry, toying with the other broken shoe.

“The servants said that his shoes are worn through almost every night, for the week that they found them,” the king said, his eyes narrowed. Yixing bit his lip, refusing to look up at them both.

If he kept mum, no one would know of his secret.

“He must be sneaking out somehow.”

Junmyeon was still looking at him, worrying the shoe.

“Xing?” His voice was gentle and Yixing swallowed the sudden burn of tears in his throat.

“Speak up, boy. Where have you been going?” His father’s tone was harsh, cutting as he tossed the useless shoe down onto the floor.

“Nowhere,” Yixing bit out, lying through his teeth. His father made a sound, half of fury, the other of disbelief.

“Nowhere?! Your dancing shoes are worn through every single night. I will ask only once. Where have you been dancing?”

“I told you, Father, nowhere,” Yixing retorted. His heart was pounding in his ears as he twisted his hands together. He was lying and everyone in the room knew that.

Junmyeon’s face twisted into alarm when Father rose, towering over them both. He looked as if he was ready to strike him for his lies.

“Where have you been dancing?” He thundered, his voice piercing and painful against Yixing’s eardrums.

Yixing bit down hard on his lips, so hard that he could taste the metallic tang of blood. Silence was his only weapon.

His father gripped his chin, tipping his head up to look him in the eye and Yixing kept his lips pinched shut, trying to keep the tears at bay.

They were at a stand-off, Yixing near trembling from the weight of his secret, his bitten lip beginning to bleed.

“So be it.” The king released him with a sound of disgust and Yixing stumbled back, covering his mouth with his hand.

He could feel his father’s gaze burning like fire into him as he said.

“You will be escorted to and from your room from now on. If Junmyeon will not escort you, you are to remain in your room. I will have guards placed under your window and by the door of your room. If you try to leave at night, your attempts will be foiled.”

“Father!” Junmyeon’s expression looked so scandalised that Yixing almost felt grateful. He should have felt afraid, or upset that his father was treating him like a prisoner, but instead, he was relieved.

His brother would never have permitted guards to be placed on the _inside _of his room. That was too much. His secret was still safe.

-

“Yixing, Yixing!” Yixing wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp, whirling around in fury.

“What do you want?” He ground out. Yifan was on his way to the castle and he had been dying to see him.

He was bringing shoes with him, after Yixing had secretly commissioned him to make him more, and to strengthen the box with more glue so that they would last longer.

It never helped really.

By the end of the night, the shoes would be worn all the way down to the sole and completely useless.

“Where have you been going? You know just how dangerous things are out there. You can’t just leave in the middle of the night without telling anyone.”

Junmyeon was nagging him, his voice turning into noise in his ears.

Yixing wrinkled his nose, trying to tune him out as he turned away, hurrying back down the hallway.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Yifan again.

It was always a good day when the cobbler came to visit, and not even the conversation with his father could dampen his spirits.

Although Junmyeon might, with the way he tried to follow him, eyes narrowed.

“Yixing!” A hand grabbed his shoulder and he growled, shaking him off once more.

“Leave me alone! You just want to report to Father!” He snarled when Junmyeon stepped in front of him.

His brother’s eyes widened at his tone before his gaze turned icy.

“Keeping you safe is my duty and if reporting to Father would keep you safe, I would gladly do it.”

Yixing felt tears prick his eyes as he folded his arms across his chest at Junmyeon’s words. Of course, his brother would call him a _duty._ As if Yixing was not worth more than a promise to their mother on her death bed.

He spun around and walked the other way, ignoring Junmyeon’s exasperated cry.

Yifan was already in the garden when he burst out of the kitchen door, startling the cobbler. He rose at the sight of him but Yixing waved him back down, stumbling into his arms before he quite knew what he was doing.

“Junmyeon is a pig,” he murmured faintly and Yifan stiffened around him.

  
“Don’t speak of your brother like that,” he admonished gently, stroking his fingers through the prince’s hair.

“He loves you dearly and wants nothing more than to see you happy.”

“He suffocates me,” Yixing muttered and the sound of a door slamming made him look up.

Junmyeon was standing there, with a look on his face that he could not quite describe. But it made Yixing’s heart clench and guilt began to well up inside of him.

Yifan started to rise but Junmyeon spun around and ran before anyone could say anything, his expression one of pain.

Yixing collapsed back into Yifan’s arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck to hide from Yifan’s chastising gaze.

The guilt sat like a rock in his stomach, heavy and sharp.

-

“You seem troubled,” Junmyeon looked up from his book to see his father watching him closely.

He had been staring at the same page in his book for close to a minute without processing a word on it.

His mind was replaying Yixing’s guarded look and the harsh words he had said to Yifan about him.

“I’m fine, Father,” he smiled wanly and listened to the papers on his father’s desk rustle.

“It’s Yixing, isn’t it?” A cold hand rested against his forehead and Junmyeon startled.

His father’s lips had a pinched look about them and his eyes were full of sorrow and worry that Junmyeon wished he could take away.

Their mother’s death had been hard on him.

“I can handle him, Father-,” he started but his father cut him off.

“I need to know where he goes at night,” he said seriously, “it’s too dangerous out there.”

He had the strangest look on his face and Junmyeon wondered if he had an inkling of here Yixing might be going.

But that was stupid.

If Father knew where Yixing had been going, he would not keep asking.

Junmyeon bowed his head.

He wished he could be more useful but he was still angry at his brother and Yixing was not likely to spill his secret to him either.

Not when he thought he would report back to Father the first chance he got.

“I don’t know, Father. He won’t tell me either and the maids still find his shoes under his bed, worn through.”

His father pulled away, worry creasing his brow and Junmyeon fought the urge to wrap his arms around him in a hug.

He was far too old to do that.

“Try, won’t you? I worry for him. He was always so attached to- to your mother.” His father smoothed his fingers through his hair gently and Junmyeon swallowed, casting his eyes down.

They never talked about Mother.

Her portraits still hung in the hallways, her favourite china still on the mantlepiece. Even her personal reading room was left untouched, the book that she had been reading before she fell ill still on the table.

It was as if she had just stepped out for a bit.

Junmyeon still had trouble remembering that she was gone.

He woke up some nights calling for her and would lay in bed waiting for her to come and smooth his brow and kiss his cheek before remembering that she was gone.

There was a gentle knock on the door before he could reply and the door creaked open a fraction.

Baekhyun’s little face peeked in around the door and Junmyeon smiled when he wandered in, clutching tightly to a tray with cookies on it.

“Hello, Baekhyunnie,” he set aside his book, crouching to take the tray from his brother.

Baekhyun gave him a gummy smile and reached up to their father.

“Papa!”

His father smiled a little and scooped him up.

“Is Papa happy now?” Baekhyun wondered, pressing sticky fingers to their father’s cheek and Junmyeon winced when he left chocolate trails on Father’s face.

“I am, now that you’ve come to see me with cookies.” His father took a cookie from the plate and Junmyeon did the same.

“Where’s Yixing hyung? Weren’t you with him this morning?”

Junmyeon distinctly remembered the servant telling him that his youngest brother had gone to the library to read with Yixing.

“He wanted to take a nap, so I went to get cookies.”

Baekhyun took their father’s half eaten cookie and offered it to Junmyeon.

“Cookie?”

Junmyeon exchanged a glance with his father and took the cookie.

“You’ll ruin your lunch, little brother,” he said as he bit into the baked good, the chocolate chips melting on his tongue.

Baekhyun pouted, scrambling down from their father’s arms to grab another, stuffing it quickly into his mouth as if he was afraid that Junmyeon would stop him.

“Was he tired already? It’s still early,” Father asked and Baekhyun shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to be picked up.

“He looked tired. He almost fell asleep when he read to me,” Baekhyun giggled, wiping his sticky fingers on their father’s shirt.

“Perhaps you ought to check on him.” Junmyeon’s lips thinned and his father glanced at him.

“Did the two of you have a fight?”

Junmyeon shook his head mutely, nudging his book away.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t eat all the cookies Baek, save me some, please.”

Yixing was deep in his slumber when he pushed the door open, wincing at the creak. He had the covers drawn up to his chin and was sleeping soundly, soft little snores issuing from his lips.

Junmyeon frowned.

Yixing never snored.

He must be incredibly tired if he was snoring.

Slowly, he crept over to the bed, kneeling to feel around beneath the frame.

Sure enough, he found a pair of dancing shoes, almost completely worn through.

Turning them over, he could see what looked like grass stains on the soles, the material worn so thin that he could easily push his fingers through and make a hole.

He bit his lip when he turned them over and saw blood crusted on the heel of the shoe.

Yixing had to be in agony every time he took a step.

But he had still looked them in the eye and lied.

Junmyeon gritted his teeth, rising to his feet.

He cast his sleeping brother an angry look and left the room, dance shoes in hand.

-

He did not see Junmyeon for days after their fight, his brother deliberately avoiding him.

Yixing still slipped away to dance the night away, but the pain worsened every morning, when the sun shone through his windows.

He had to conceal the broken shoes, and send the servants away at bath time so that they would not see his ruined feet.

Kai insisted upon his attendance despite numerous pleas for one night of rest and he came every night.

Yixing was beginning to dread the nights, when he heard the squeaking and whirring of the mosaic’s stones that signalled Kai’s appearance.

“My love,” Kai seemed especially tired that night when he appeared to him, his eyes hollow, the bags beneath them dark and heavy.

Yixing seized the opportunity.

“You look tired,” he reached up a hand to stroke his cheek when the dark prince stood over his bed.

Kai’s skin was so cold against his fingertips and so smooth that it almost felt like marble.

But the prince merely smiled, strained around the edges and took his hand.

“I will be fine after we dance, dearest.”

Yixing sank back into the pillows, fear and exhaustion clouding in his chest. He was too tired to dance.

“But I’m tired too. We could stay here, tonight. I could read your stories from my childhood,” he implored, lacing their fingers together.

Kai wrinkled his nose and Yixing was suddenly struck by just how little he knew about the prince. He knew only that he had lived in Castle Under Stone his entire life, had never seen sunlight and had no desire to and that he enjoyed dancing.

“Come, love. My father will not be happy if we are late,” a strong hand gripped his arm and Yixing had no choice but to sweep back the covers, Kai running his fingers over his blistered feet and lace on his shoes.

The cold feeling of fear never left him the entire night even as his body melded into the music, moving almost on autopilot.

His feet felt like there were knives slicing through them by the time they left, new blisters opening up all over the skin. His shoes were full of blood as he limped into the boat, clutching onto Kai’s arm like a lifeline.

The strangest thing was that Kai was practically glowing with health, as if he had absorbed the energy from the dances.

He looked much better at the end of the ball than when he first begun, his eyes gleaming, the hollows filled out.

Yixing collapsed into the boat with a pained sound, yanking off his shoes.

“Please stop the pain,” he gasped.

His feet were still bleeding, blood dripping all over the bottom of the boat.

Kai looked down at them and winced.

“My powers are waning, dearest.” He crouched, his hand curled around one oar. “I can only try.”

His feet tingled a little but the pain barely dulled and he had to suppress the urge to scream when he stepped out onto the bank on the other side of the river.

“Don’t come for me tomorrow please,” he begged when his knees buckled and Kai had to catch him.

He left bloody footprints in the grass as he limped his way to the staircase with Kai’s support.

The prince’s brow furrowed when he helped him up the staircase.

“You know I cannot do that, love,” he said, “my father wishes to see you dance.”

“He watches me dance every night,” Yixing exclaimed, “he can give me a day to rest and I’ll dance even better.”

Kai’s expression was pained as he shook his head, carefully helping the injured prince over to his bed.

“He will not. I must go. The sun rises. I will see you tonight, my darling.”

Before Yixing could protest, he was gone, the mosaic shifting back into place as if they had never moved before.

He managed to toss his shoes under the bed and curl up beneath the covers, his body shivering even as the sun’s rays streamed into the room, his breaths coming out in short little pants.

For the first time in his life, Yixing was afraid of dancing.

-

“Is your brother still unwell?” Junmyeon looked up from stirring syrup into his breakfast to see his father staring worriedly at the empty seat.

He shrugged, watching the golden syrup disappear into his thick porridge.

It was incredibly petty of him but he still had yet to speak to his brother.

Yixing had been holed up in bed, citing a headache when Junmyeon had asked his maids and Junmyeon had left him be, even though Father had wanted him to attend breakfast that morning.

Father had his papers in his hands and had barely spoken all morning anyway.

Junmyeon was more preoccupied with making sure that Baekhyun did not decide it would be fun to smear his porridge all over the table.

Baekhyun did not seem to notice the obvious tension in the room when their father put away his papers, reaching over to bring his cup of steaming coffee up to his lips.

“You have not spoken to him.”

It was not a question.

Junmyeon shrugged once more, taking the tiniest bite of his porridge. He was not hungry.

Yixing’s maids had brought him another pair of worn out dance shoes and he was close to ripping his hair out wondering how his brother was getting out.

The guards at the door had reported no strange activity.

They said that the prince had remained in his rooms all night and even the ones stationed beneath his window said the same.

But the shoes kept wearing out.

Junmyeon had sent the shoes to Yifan and the cobbler was curious as to why the soles were covered in grass stains.

So Yixing had to be leaving somehow.

“Is it not a little petty for you to still be angry at Yixing?” His father asked, startling him out of his thoughts and Junmyeon pinned his poor porridge bowl with his stare.

“He’s keeping secrets,” he said stiffly, “and he had the gall to call me a pig.”

“Junmyeon,” his father’s tone was stern, “you are the older brother. Surely you should be a little more forgiving. Will you be like this even when you’re king?”

Junmyeon’s cheeks burned and he kept his eyes down, as if he wanted to bore a hole into the table top.

“It’s too soon to be talking about me being king, Father.”

“No, it is not. You will be of age in two years, Junmyeon. A quarter of your life will have already passed. If you are this narrow minded when you are king, you will not make a great one.”

“I will still have you to guide me, Father. I will learn eventually.”

His father’s lips twisted, as if he had more to say but he remained silent, fingers curling around a little golden key that he often wore.

“What does that unlock, Father?” he asked, skilfully changing the subject.

“A chest in your mother’s closet,” came the reply, his father worrying the key on its cord.

“There are things in it that explain our family and heirlooms for you and your brothers. The key will be yours when you are crowned.”

“Why not give it to us now?” Junmyeon sat up, curious. Their family had always been a strange one, full of mystery and intrigue.

No pictures hung on the walls and they had never ever met their grandparents, on either side.

Mother and Father had always been very secretive about their past.

Junmyeon only knew the barest minimum about how they had met.

At a lavish ball where his father had been a prince and Mother a princess.

They fell in love and got married, the end.

There were no other details, nothing about the wedding or their family.

His father smiled kindly at him.

“I think you need a little more time to grow up before you’re ready to hear the stories, my dear boy.”

Pouting, Junmyeon stirred his porridge a little more. It was no longer edible at this point, all clumpy and sticky and gross.

He reached for his cup of chocolate, sipping it delicately.

“I think I’m rather grown up enough, Father.”

Father laughed and shook his head.

“Be patient, Junmyeon. You will get to know them when the time is right.”


	2. Secrets Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secrets to the crown and royal household are many and dark and the opening of the gateway had only served to bring them to light.

“Hyung,” Yixing grabbed his brother’s arm as they were leaving the dinner table. Junmyeon clearly still had not forgiven him for the jibe he had made but he had to swallow his pride if he wished for security.

Junmyeon shook him off, levelling him with an angry gaze and Yixing felt tears ball up in his throat.

He swallowed and reached for him again feebly.

“Hyung, I- I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said what I said,” Junmyeon’s gaze did not soften, even as Yixing limped towards him.

Yixing bit down an exclamation of pain when he took a step and his blistered feet protested. He managed to reach his brother before he could leave, expression pleading.

“Hyung, please-,” he whimpered in pain when Junmyeon nudged him away, lips pressed together in a tight line.

Baekhyun was looking between the both of them, his lower lip trembling.

“Hyung?” he called softly and Junmyeon turned to him, trying to soften his tone before he frightened him further.

“We’re fine, Hyunnie.”

His voice was strained and it was evident enough that Baekhyun slid out of his seat, wobbling over to clutch at his knees.

“Don’t be mad, hyung,” he mumbled, looking up at Junmyeon with big teary eyes. Yixing felt his heart stutter when his brother looked over to him.

“I’m sure Xing Xing hyung didn’t mean it,” he said, tugging lightly on Junmyeon’s trousers.

Junmyeon bent, scooping him up without a word.

He glanced at Yixing, his brows still knitted.

“You’re a big boy,” he said curtly, settling Baekhyun on his hip and Yixing could feel his heart sink.

“Sleep on your own.”

He opened his mouth to argue but Junmyeon was already gone, taking Baekhyun with him.

Grimacing with every step, he dragged himself up to his room, his feet screaming with every step.

Shooing the servants from his bathroom, he set his feet into a bath of warm water, the tears trickling from the corners of his eyes as the water stung the open wounds.

He could not dance anymore.

The very thought of having to put his shoes on and dance on Kai’s arm like a puppet frightened him and he buried his face into his hands, sobbing in breathless terror.

He crawled into bed with fear gripping his heart in a vice, pulling the covers over his head in the hopes that Kai would not come, that he would have mercy.

But the stones creaked and grumbled and Yixing’s stomach turned.

He could feel every step that the dark prince took towards his bed, the cold fingers that curled around his covers and yanked them off.

Before he could speak, fingers curled around the back of his head, tugging him up into a kiss that stole his breath away.

“Good evening,” Kai’s smile was slow and sultry. He was practically glowing with health and Yixing paled in comparison.

The covers were pushed aside, exposing the injured feet and Kai did not let him protest before he was running his fingers over his skin lightly, the blisters fading away.

The pain was gone too but Yixing drew up his legs, folding his knees to his chest.

The prince might have taken away the pain but the exhaustion was bone deep.

He was running on fumes and he was not sure how much longer he could do this.

“Come now, love or we shall be late.”

-

“Where is my brother?” Junmyeon asked curtly as the servants cleared away the plates and bowls. It was the end of breakfast and there was still no sign of Yixing.

The servant closest to him picked up his bowl and bowed.

“His Highness said that he was unwell and would not be attending breakfast today, sir,” she answered stiffly and Junmyeon thanked her with a nod, waving her away.

He finished his breakfast quietly and put Baekhyun down for his nap time before climbing the narrow stairs up to Yixing’s bedchambers.

It was a petty thing, but Junmyeon was still upset at his brother. They were supposed to stick together and take care of one another but Yixing was keeping secrets.

And if there was one thing that Junmyeon absolutely despised, it was not knowing things.

His boots clicked on the stone steps as he climbed, wondering if Yixing’s sudden bout of illness was due to him sneaking out.

The servants had reported to him that his brother’s shoes were still wearing out, thrown haphazardly beneath the bed as if he wished to hide them.

The insides of the shoes were caked with blood and even Yifan was horrified when he had shown them to him.

He had half a mind to stop the cobbler from bringing more shoes, if it would keep Yixing indoors at night.

The thought was not even fully formed in his mind when he arrived at the doors of Yixing’s bedchambers and there Yifan stood, clutching a wooden box in hand.

“Yifan!”

The cobbler turned and bowed quickly, his face paling a little.

“Your Highness,” he intoned and Junmyeon waved his hand dismissively.

“Did Yixing summon you?” He asked stiffly and Yifan bowed his head, holding out the box.

“I was to deliver more shoes but a servant said he was too unwell to meet me in the garden,” he explained and Junmyeon frowned.

“Well,” he pushed open the door lightly, leading the way in, “perhaps you should stop-.”

The rest of his sentence was cut off when he saw the state of his brother, dance shoes cast off openly on the floor.

“Yixing, Yixing!”

Junmyeon scrambled to the bed in alarm. His brother was curled up beneath the covers, his face deathly pale, his lips almost completely colourless.

“Hyung.” The whimper was faint and weak, Yixing’s eyes flicking to him. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch and as Junmyeon yanked back the covers, he grabbed for them feebly, murmuring something about being cold.

“Oh gods,” Yifan muttered beside him, kneeling to pick up something from the floor. Junmyeon turned to see him holding Yixing’s dance shoes, the insides crusted with blood, as if he had been made to dance for a very, _very _long time.

Yixing cringed at the sight of the shoes, fingers digging into Junmyeon’s shirt as he began to cry, soft heaving sobs.

“I- I’m sorry!” he wailed as Junmyeon gathered him close, terrified at just how thin his brother had become. His shoulder blades were protruding, jutting from his skin and he could feel his ribs almost immediately through his shirt.

“I just- I just wanted to dance,” Yixing sniffled and Junmyeon combed fingers through his hair as the words spilled from his mouth.

“He- He came in the night. His name is Kai,” he choked, “we danced together, every night in his father’s palace.”

“Every night?” Yifan echoed, stunned. Junmyeon glanced at the shoes in his hand, understanding dawning upon him.

“How did he get in? Father put guards around your room and your windows. The doors are bolted every night.”

“Through the staircase.” Yixing pointed to the giant mosaic at the centre of the room, still sniffling. He was trembling in Junmyeon’s arms.

“Every night the mosaic transforms into a staircase that takes us under. We pass a forest of silver trees and then there’s a lake. The castle is across the lake. It was so beautiful.”

Yixing took on a dreamy tone, even though he was still trembling, the fear in his body palpable.

“I didn’t mean to stay so long. But he was handsome and the music, oh the music, was wonderful. We danced all night, until my shoes wore out and then he would escort me back. He came every night, even when I was so tired and exhausted that I didn’t want to dance.”

At that, he began to shudder, his voice shaking.

“I can’t dance anymore, hyung. I can’t. I’ll die if I do. I’m _so _tired.” He buried his face into Junmyeon’s chest, and the older prince stroked his back gently, his mind running a million miles.

“He’s coming back. Tonight. He’ll make me dance again and I _can’t,_” Yixing sobbed. He pulled away, tugging the covers away to reveal his bare feet.

Junmyeon could not hold back his gasp of horror.

The skin on his feet was cracked and there were ravines of dried blood in those cracks. His heels were covered in blisters and there was still skin coming off his ankles in patches.

Yifan look similarly horrified, his mouth agape.

Gingerly, Junmyeon touched them, wincing inside when skin came off at his touch, Yixing shuddering with a gasp.

“I can’t-,” his brother’s voice broke and he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake.

Junmyeon held him as he cried himself to sleep, rocking him like a child. He exchanged concerned looks with Yifan, who looked as if he was torn between his heart being broken and tearing into the man who had been coming to claim Yixing in the night.

“He can’t go on like this,” he said softly, as he laid his brother back down to sleep. Already, he could feel fever breaking across Yixing’s brow, his forehead warm to the touch.

Yixing barely stirred when he stepped away, tugging the covers over him. His brows were creased, as if he felt pain even in his dreams.

Junmyeon’s heart cracked. How could he have been so ignorant? He could remember now, a few nights ago at dinner, how pale and shaken his brother had looked, how he had pleaded with him to sleep in his room but he had pushed him away.

Yifan followed him silently as he headed straight for the library. He had no idea where to start looking, but the library would be a start.

He could not imagine how Yifan had to be feeling, knowing that the man he loved had been seeing someone else at night. Yixing had showed such interest in him as well, that Junmyeon had been convinced that his brother truly had feelings for the cobbler.

“We’ll never know what we’re facing unless we go down there,” the cobbler muttered as Junmyeon began pulling books from the shelves, searching for any mention of a hidden staircase and men appearing in bedrooms.

“We can’t. He comes only for Yixing. If there’s anyone else in the room, he will not come,” Junmyeon replied. He was sure of this as Yixing had begged him numerous times to sleep in his bed, citing nightmares as the reason.

He had ignored him then. The guilt was a stone in the pit of his stomach. Mother had asked him to take care of his brothers.

He had done right by Baekhyun, but had neglected Yixing as a result.

“I can,” Yifan said, with such certainty in his voice that Junmyeon looked up.

The cobbler’s lips were set in a thin line, his brows furrowed.

“I have an invisibility cloak. Passed down from my mother’s side of the family,” he explained and Junmyeon wished that he did not believe him but there was such surety in his eyes that there was no doubt he was telling the truth.

“I can hide in his room and go with him to that underground palace.”

“No, let me,” Junmyeon began. There was a ball in his throat, the guilt tugging at him relentlessly. If he had paid more attention, if he had just _listened_, perhaps they would not be in such a predicament.

“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” Yifan argued back, his hand closing around the prince’s wrist.

Junmyeon shook his head mutely. He could not speak for if he knew if he tried, the tears would come spilling out.

Yifan seemed to read his mind, bending to look him in the eye.

“You are needed here, Your Highness. I’m expendable. Let me go.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth but the cobbler cut him off before he could say a word.

“Think of your father, of Baekhyun. What if something goes wrong? They need you here.”

Yifan’s eyes seemed to burn right into his soul as he gripped his wrist.

There was a part of him that wanted to protest, that wanted to beg Yifan let him go, to let him make things right. But the cobbler’s words were true.

As much as it pained him to let someone else do the job, he was the crown prince and Baekhyun needed him just as much. Their family needed him.

Swallowing, he nodded.

They agreed not to tell Yixing, such that the younger prince would not behave in any manner that would raise suspicion and that very night, Junmyeon let Yifan into the bedroom himself, under the pretence of visiting his brother.

Yixing was worse than ever, his forehead burning with fever. Coughs wracked his small frame as he tried to swallow some of the porridge Junmyeon had brought with him.

“Does Papa know?” He rasped when Junmyeon pushed aside his covers to rub a soothing balm over his injured feet.

Junmyeon shook his head mutely. Their father was still grieving, he knew, and it would trouble him no end if he realised that Yixing had been sneaking out with unnatural creatures of the night.

Yixing grimaced but kept still as his brother massaged over his sore feet, fingers clenching into his pillow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again when Junmyeon raised a glass to his lips, his cheeks flushed with fever. Tears were shining in his eyes, like stars as he bent his head, drinking deeply.

“Don’t be,” Junmyeon whispered, kissing his forehead tenderly, “I should be sorry that I didn’t listen to you.”

Yixing shook his head in mild protest as he rose from his seat, making to leave. Fingers curled into the hem of his sleep shirt and he looked down to see his brother looking at him pleadingly.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded faintly, “I’m scared, hyung.”

Though his heart screamed at him to stay, to keep the creepy bastard away from his younger brother, his mind forced him to think of the plan.

“Just tonight, alright? Just sleep by yourself tonight. I promise everything will be alright,” he bent, even as silver tears began sliding down Yixing’s face, carving tracks in his skin, pressing a kiss to his brother’s hair.

Yixing’s quiet whimpering broke his heart and it nearly killed him to walk out that door and close it behind him.

He had to stop behind the closed door, swallowing back his tears and fighting back the urge to walk back inside.

“Hyung?”

The sweet voice snapped him from his thoughts and he looked down to see little Baekhyun staring up at him in concern.

“Is Yixing hyung alright?”

Tiny fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt and there was warmth against his legs, Baekhyun doing his best to climb him like a tree.

Fighting back the urge to cry, he bent, picking up his brother with one arm, Baekhyun immediately nuzzling into his neck happily.

“I hope so, Hyunnie. I hope so.”

-

The grinding of stones against each other snapped Yifan awake and he looked up to see the mosaic on the floor sinking into the ground, heavy footfalls echoing out of the hole.

The man who stepped out was indeed handsome, dressed in a tight fitting suit the colour of the sky at midnight. The lining of his blazer was purple velvet and it shimmered, as if the stars themselves had been sewn into the fabric.

Yixing was already awake and the look of fear on his face made Yifan’s heart clench. Anger was rising to his throat, his vision seeing red. But he kept his composure, making no sound as the man bent over the bed.

“Kai, please,” Yixing breathed, reaching up even as the man kissed him, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Can’t we stay here tonight? I’m exhausted,” his plea was weak even as the man swept aside his covers, pressing his hands to his poor, blistered feet.

“Not tonight, my love. We must dance,” Kai murmured, and Yifan watched as the blisters and scars faded from Yixing’s feet, the skin smooth and clean once more.

Yixing whimpered pitifully as Kai picked up his new dance shoes, tenderly lacing them on.

“Up you get,” Kai had his arms around Yixing before he could protest, dragging him to his feet. The prince could hardly stand on his own, so weak from his fever.

“Kai, please, I don’t want to dance-.” Yixing’s voice fell into silence as the dark prince picked him up, guiding him over to the staircase. Yifan rose from his hiding place, following closely as the pair walked down the stairs, Kai grunting from the effort it took to keep the prince upright.

He tried to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible but he must have made some noise, because Yixing spun around, nearly slipping in his prince’s arms.

“What was that?” he cried and Kai turned to look.

Yifan’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he remained as still as he could, his heart in his mouth.

Kai’s piercing eyes swept past him, and he shook his head, lips twisting into an unhappy line.

“There’s nothing there, my dear. Now let’s go or we shall be late.”

Yixing did not seem to believe him, but he had no choice but to follow.

They emerged out into a forest, and Yifan’s jaw dropped at the sight.

There were hundreds, upon thousands of trees, as silver as the moon, growing straight out of the ground. They were real too, as he discovered, when he pressed his hand against the trunk of the nearest tree.

It was cool against his skin and Yifan knew he had to bring some back for Junmyeon. It would help their research so much. No natural place could have trees of silver literally growing out of the ground.

Reaching up, he snapped a twig as gently as he could.

But the crack was loud in the silent forest and Yixing whirled around again, his prince making a disgusted sound.

“What is it now, my love?” His tone was impatient as Yixing surveyed the silver forest. Yifan huddled back as the prince’s eyes searched the trees for any sign of the sound.

“Did you hear that?” he asked and Kai’s lips pulled into a grimace, his fingers digging into Yixing’s arm so hard that the prince made a pained sound.

“I must have stepped on a branch, nothing to worry about, dearest,” he said through his teeth and without waiting for an answer, tugged Yixing along.

Yifan followed, anger burning in his chest.

They emerged from the forest at the banks of an enormous lake, a sheet of black glittering water that stretched for miles. Beyond it, a castle rose high, black stones shimmering.

The prince stepped into a little silver boat, helping Yixing into it. Yifan stepped in with them, sitting at the bow as Kai picked up the oars, rowing them across the water.

“Are you alright?” Yixing asked and Yifan felt a sense of satisfaction flit through him as the prince struggled with his oars, clearly unused to the added weight.

“The boat is much heavier tonight,” Kai grunted and Yixing gasped, his expression twisting into one of offence.

“How dare you!” he snapped, stepping off the boat the very moment they arrived on shore. He wobbled, nearly falling but Kai caught him, his face flushed.

“I didn’t mean-,” he started and Yixing yanked away from him, his knees buckling.

“My love!” Kai caught him in his arms and Yifan felt the ugly snake of jealousy rise in his chest as he watched Yixing lean against the man, coughs wracking his body.

His clothes were changing as Kai held him, turning into a black suit jacket and pants that matched his prince’s exactly, with stars shimmering in the fabric.

“I told you I couldn’t dance,” he choked, one hand pressed to his mouth. Kai made no reply and Yixing leaned heavily against him as he was led into the castle.

The ballroom was massive, with glittering gold chandeliers hung above. There were so many other people, already dancing when they entered.

The king was sat atop his throne, gazing down at his subjects with a snake smile that made Yifan’s skin crawl. He scuttled to the corner of the room as the king rose from his throne at the sight of his son.

“Ah, Prince Yixing.”

Kai bowed before his father, Yixing following his lead.

“You’re late,” the king said, still smiling. His tone was cordial enough, but everyone could hear the underlying threat.

“I- I apologize.” Yixing bowed once more, one hand curled around Kai’s arm, “I am unwell, sir.”

The king raised his eyebrows as the prince straightened, taking a step closer towards him. Yifan wanted to cry out for him to stop, as he curled spindly fingers around Yixing’s chin, tipping him up to face him fully.

“I am sorry to hear that,” the king said smoothly, waving a careless hand in the air. A servant materialised at his side, bearing a golden chalice.

“Perhaps this will help.” he took the chalice, offering it to Yixing. Yixing managed to keep a straight face, but Yifan’s heart nearly stopped.

“No, thank you, sir,” the prince said haltingly, straightening. His lips were pulled into a pained grimace as the king nodded at him, Kai leading him away onto the dance floor.

Yifan was standing close enough to hear every painful cough that wracked Yixing’s body, every grimace as Kai led him through the dances. He could see the prince’s energy level visibly dip as they danced and Kai’s were rising, his cheeks filling out, a healthy flush reaching his cheeks.

With a start of horror, he realised what was happening.

Kai was draining him, of energy and life in general. That explained the fever and constant state of low energy.

By the end of the night, Yixing was drooping, his steps stumbling and as unsure as a newborn lamb’s. His shoes were once again worn through to the soles and Yifan could hardly imagine the pain he was in as Kai led him out on his arm, practically glowing.

Yixing gasped when he stepped into the silver boat, his knees buckling and Kai jerked, barely able to catch him before he collapsed.

“I can’t, Kai, please,” Yifan’s heart broke to hear the prince beg, his slender fingers clutching at Kai’s jacket as the man stepped into the boat.

“I can’t dance anymore.”

With a grunt, they pushed off, Kai huffing and puffing by the time they arrived at the opposite shore.

Yixing was limping, shuddering in pain as the prince helped him up, his lips tightening with sympathy.

By the time they made it up the staircase, Yixing could hardly stand, almost entirely leaning against Kai.

The prince bent, combing fingers through Yixing’s hair in a gesture that had the ugly snake in Yifan’s chest rearing its head again.

“One last time. I promise,” he whispered, “just one more night, my love. And you’ll never have to dance again.”

The sentence chilled Yifan’s heart.

-

“What does that mean?” Junmyeon’s eyes were wide with horror when Yifan relayed the conversation to him, emphasising what the prince had said before he turned into shadow.

“His Highness is so weak, I fear that if he dances one more night, his heart may stop,” Yifan said.

Junmyeon was perched on the edge of the bed, watching his brother’s chest rise and fall. His breathing was shallow, his forehead beaded with sweat and he was barely lucid by the time Junmyeon had gotten to him.

It had been a struggle to get him to drink even the littlest bit of the medicinal broth that Junmyeon had asked the cook to whip up.

He had run into their father while bearing the soup and the king had known immediately that someone was unwell.

“Is it Yixing?” He asked tensely, eyes flickering to the bowl of soup in his hands.

Junmyeon swallowed and bowed his head.

“It is only a little head cold, Father. He will be well soon.” He tried to sound as reassuring as he could even though his heart was thumping in his chest at the lies sliding off his tongue.

Father had far more pressing things to worry about than his son running off to play with unnatural creatures of the night.

The king had only nodded, and not looked convinced when he walked off, the bowl of soup trembling on the tray.

“He can’t dance,” Junmyeon said softly, “he can’t dance any longer or he’ll die.”

As if in response, Yixing let out a little moan, his lashes fluttering. His eyes were glazed over as he stared up at them, unfocused.

“Father will be devastated if he knew.” Junmyeon brushed his fingers delicately over Yixing’s sweat damp hair, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead.

“We must go tonight. I will kill that bastard with my own hands if I have to.” His tone was stiff and quiet with fury.

“But Your Highness-.”

“I must go. It was my fault that this happened. If I had paid more attention, if I had just _listened_, he wouldn’t be in this state.”

Junmyeon rose from the bed, his eyes sharp and piercing.

“Can you fit two people under that invisibility cloak of yours?”

There could be no room for error, not with Yixing’s life on the line.

He purchased a dagger from the silversmith, made from silver melted together with the silver twig that Yifan had brought back.

The priests at the temple blessed the weapon and etched runes upon runes of protection into it. They asked no questions, which he was grateful for.

How was he to admit that his own negligence had led to his own brother’s wretched state?

Night fell quickly, far too quickly for Junmyeon’s liking.

His father had come to see Yixing and his fever had broken a little, enough to convince their father that he was close to recovering.

The lines in his father’s face did not ease much however, even when Junmyeon shooed him from the room under the pretence of Yixing needing to sleep.

He huddled under the invisibility cloak with Yifan, his heart in his mouth when the stones of the mosaic began to shift, creaking and grinding.

A figure emerged from the darkness, draped in shadows and darkness. His footsteps were silent when he crossed the room and Junmyeon had to stifle a scream of anger when he pulled the covers away from a sleeping Yixing.

“Wake up, dearest.” he caressed Yixing’s cheek gently and he watched as his brother stirred, his lips parting with a little cry of fear.

“Kai.” He tried to squirm away but the prince had his arm in a death grip.

“Kai, please, I can’t. Not anymore. Please let me go, please,” he begged even as he was bodily dragged from his bed, his new shoes forcefully laced onto his aching feet.

“It’s the last night, my dearest. I promise. The last night and you will never have to dance again.”

Yixing was crying even as he was dragged to his feet, tears streaming down his face like pearls on a broken necklace.

Kai shook him hard and wiped his tears.

“Don’t cry, dearest. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Junmyeon stifled a gasp when Yixing’s night clothes were transformed into the loveliest shade of navy, stark against his snowy skin.

His lips were dark with rouge but no amount of makeup could hide the hollows in his eyes or his sunken cheeks.

“Come,” they walked down the enchanted staircase together and Junmyeon and Yifan followed, keeping their footsteps as quiet as they could.

Junmyeon clapped a hand over his mouth when they came to the bottom of the steps, eyes wide in wonder when he came upon the forest of silver trees.

They climbed aboard the very boat that Yixing entered, though the thought of being so close to the underworld prince made his skin crawl.

Junmyeon pressed a hand to the lining of his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of the dagger under his fingers.

Kai noticed the extra weight, it seemed, but made no mention of it, huffing and puffing until they arrived at the other end.

Yixing only sat in the stern, like a ghost, his dark eyes dull and lifeless.

He nearly collapsed when Kai helped him from the boat, his face so white that it was nearly translucent.

Junmyeon’s heart trembled as he followed closely behind them, the music playing from the ballroom eerie to his ears.

Yixing barely danced two steps before he was coughing, a pale hand pressed to his chest, his footsteps stumbling to a stop.

Kai had to hold him up as he hacked and coughed and everything in Junmyeon was screaming for him to pry the prince’s hands away from his brother.

“Your dancing is subpar today, Prince Yixing.” The voice chilled his blood and sent shivers down his spine. It was nothing but pure evil and he could see it on the face of the man who stood before his brother.

He wore a black crown that shimmered beneath the chandeliers and was wrapped in an oily looking cloak with silver trim.

He was handsome, as handsome as one so evil could be, with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of rock instead of marble.

His eyes slid slowly across the hall and Junmyeon felt a chill run down his spine when his gaze lingered over the area him and Yifan were hiding in before moving on.

Slowly, the courtiers stopped dancing and the music faded away into the night.

Junmyeon had to suppress the urge to run over and rip the man’s hand from his body when he grasped Yixing’s chin and tipped it up, his brother’s eyes widening in fear.

“Your Grace,” he murmured, trembling as he tried to bow but only succeeded in nearly falling over himself.

“You look so very pale,” the king observed and Yixing shuddered, his eyes fluttering shut weakly when the king curled fingers around his throat.

“I am unwell, sir,” he murmured faintly.

“Hmm. You’ve brought guests with you. Unwelcome guests.”

To Junmyeon’s horror, the king’s eyes swept over the room once more, colliding directly with him. He drew his weapon just as Kai lunged, yanking Yixing up against his chest.

“No!” Junmyeon cried out when the prince laid a blade of indigo against his brother’s white throat.

Yixing’s eyes were wide with terror, too frightened to even scream.

“Brother?” He gaped and the king chuckled, stroking fingers along his cheek.

Beside him, Junmyeon heard Yifan inhale sharply, dropping the invisibility cloak.

“Don’t come closer,” the prince hissed, “or I’ll slit his throat.”

“How very brave of them to come after you, little one,” the king mused and Yixing whimpered faintly, his eyes locked onto Junmyeon’s face.

“Let him go,” he snarled but Kai only tightened his grip, one hand sliding into Yixing’s hair to yank his head back.

Yifan lurched forward but with a flick of his fingers, the king sent him flying back across the room, slamming into the wall with a harsh thud.

“Yifan!” Junmyeon held out his dagger with a trembling hand, watching as the cobbler dragged himself back to his feet.

“You’re already too late, little prince. Your brother is nearly gone,” the king said softly with a satisfied smile.

Junmyeon glanced at Yixing, who was like a wilting flower. His face had grown even paler and he could hardly stand on his own.

Kai on the other hand, was glowing. He was draining him, taking his life force.

“Leave him alone,” he growled and Kai cast his brother aside like a rag doll, leaping forward when Junmyeon lunged for the king, his indigo blade making sparks when it collided with Junmyeon’s silver one.

Yixing fell, his knees crumpling beneath him and he lay on his side, his breathing stuttering.

“Brother!” He cried faintly and Junmyeon turned towards him, yelping when the blade slashed, grazing his arm.

He staggered back, the clang of a sword reaching his ears.

Yifan was by his side, blocking Kai’s blade for him. His lips were set in a grim line as he deflected another blow from the dark prince.

Junmyeon ran to his brother, cradling him against his chest.

Yixing was so pale, his lips nearly white and he was limp in his arms, his breathing shallow. His fingers were cold when they curled around his wrist.

“Hyung,” he murmured and Junmyeon held him close, terrified out of his wits.

“You’re alright. You’re going to be alright,” Junmyeon whispered, desperately hoping that he was right.

He propped his brother up against the nearest pillar and bolted to join Yifan.

His eyes were on the king, not the prince, who looked as if he were dancing, his blade carving slashes of purple through the air.

But he could not get close before the king noticed him.

Junmyeon screamed in shock when the floor erupted, purple tentacles of solid rock coiling around his waist and arms, dragging him into the air.

He cried out, thrashing when his sword arm was pinned to his side and another tentacle twined around his neck, squeezing just hard enough that he choked.

“Your Highness!” Yifan spun towards him, too distracted to see the blade flying towards him.

He screamed too, when the blade cleaved into his left side, sending blood spurting into the air and Junmyeon could only watch in horror when he fell.

“No!” Yixing was struggling to his feet, his face bloodless as he stared at Yifan’s fallen body. He was swaying even when he managed to stand, his knees unable to hold his weight.

“Leave them alone, please!” He cried when Kai turned towards him, his face a mask of fury.

He did not protest when the prince curled fingers into his shirt, dragging him toward him.

“Leave them alone,” he breathed and Junmyeon twisted in his restraints, his legs kicking the air uselessly.

The coil of rock around his throat squeezed harder and he gasped, his grip on his weapon going slack as all the air seemed to leave his body at once.

“Stop, stop!” Yixing cried, his eyes wide with horror.

Junmyeon gurgled, fighting to draw air into his lungs. The edges of his vision were filling with black and there were spots dancing before his eyes.

“Please, let them go! You already have me. _Please_.”

Yixing said something else but Junmyeon’s world was dulling, the black spots growing ever larger.

He gasped in shock when the tentacles released him all at once, dropping him hard onto the ground. The world was spinning around him even as he lay there, panting.

Yifan was close by, lying in a pool of his own blood even as he tried to stem the bleeding.

“How noble,” the king purred and Junmyeon’s vision cleared enough for him to see Yixing being held in Prince Kai’s arms, his eyes fluttering shut as the colour drained from his face.

“But you have nothing left to give, little one. You’re so close now, so close.”

Yixing was swaying, the strength leaving his limbs and Junmyeon could not help the cry that tore from his throat as he tried to stand.

He wanted to rip his brother out of the prince’s arms and put a knife through the King’s heart but he was weak.

Too weak to even save his own brother.

A blast ripped through the air, deafening to his ears and the black king shrieked, first in agony and then, when he laid eyes upon the intruder, with amusement.

Junmyeon stared, eyes wide when Kai dropped his brother onto the ground, Yixing crumpling into a heap at his feet, and drew his blade, gaze fixed on the man who had appeared in their midst, draped in a silver cloak with the hood raised over his head.

“Well, well, well, look who has _finally _come home.”

His mouth dropped open when the intruder dropped his hood back, revealing his face.

“_Father_?”

His father did not turn to look at him, his eyes burning like stars into the Black King’s face.

“Leave my sons out of this, Siwon. Your fight is with me.”

“Oh, but are your sons not a part of you, Jungsoo? Are they not your _flesh and blood?_”

Junmyeon screamed in agony when Kai lashed out at him, barely rolling out of the way in time. The blade caught his shoulder, tearing through his skin.

He grabbed at it, gasping.

Blood poured from the wound, dripping between his fingers as he sat up, eyes wide. His fingers closed on something on the floor, cold and metal and he exhaled, crouching over it so as to hide it from view.

His father was looking at him, his face white. There was a twist to his lips that Junmyeon knew meant that he was hurting.

“I’m alright, Father,” he tried to reassure him with his trembling words.

But he was not looking at him anymore.

He was looking at Yixing, curled up into a ball on the floor, his breathing so shallow that Junmyeon could hardly tell he was breathing at all.

“How sweet,” the black king swept aside his robes, revealing a long, wickedly sharp blade that glinted purple in the light.

Junmyeon’s breath hitched in his throat and scrambled to get away, but before he could move far, there was a hand in his hair and he was being yanked upwards, the king’s blade pressing painfully against his throat.

“Junmyeon!” His father took a step forward but Junmyeon made a pained noise in his throat as the blade dug into his skin, drawing blood.

“You have three now, do you not?”

The Black King’s tone was quiet, as he held Junmyeon in his arms, so tightly that the prince could not move for fear of slitting his own throat.

His own dagger was still concealed in his hand, hidden up his sleeve so that no one could see it.

“This one.” the blade lifted a little and Junmyeon exhaled.

“The one who dances.”

Dark eyes the colour of obsidian flitted to Yixing, who was motionless on the floor.

“And one more. A child.”

“What do you want from my sons, Siwon?”

Father’s teeth were clenched but Junmyeon could read the fear in his eyes when the blade so much as twitched.

“They are sunlight and we are shadow, Jungsoo. Or have you forgotten where you came from?”

The Black King showed white teeth bared into a smile and Junmyeon shuddered.

“You are the same as I am, Jungsoo. Never forget your roots,” he singsonged and Junmyeon’s blood chilled.

“What?” He could not help the exclamation that fell from his lips and the black king chuckled beside his ear.

“Oh, did your father never tell you of me? I’m hurt,” his tone was cold and mocking, the hand in Junmyeon’s hair tightening.

“Leave them be, Siwon. This is not of their concern.” His father’s muscles were tense, his eyes flitting to Junmyeon’s face before going back to the black King’s.

“You see, your father was of this realm too. He was, you could say, my other half,” the black king continued as if Father had not spoken, raising his blade to trace fingers along Junmyeon’s cheek.

“Father?” Junmyeon could not believe his ears.

How could his father have belonged to this dark and eerie place? It was so full of magic and creatures with none of the sun that his father loved.

Father had always kept his study well lit, with large bay windows, sunlight streaming in.

Junmyeon remembered when Mother was ill and he had tried to draw the drapes for her to rest and Father had stopped him, only allowing him to draw the thin, sheer curtains that still allowed in sunlight.

“The sun will be good for her,” he had said.

The palace was built with massive windows and skylights and was always lit with lamps and candles of the sort even through the night.

“But love is a foolish thing, I suppose,” the fingers curled and Junmyeon winced when he felt nails scratching against his cheek, carving lines into his skin.

“He fell in _love_ and abandoned me here. He sealed me into this realm and well, now I have all of his most precious things here.”

The black king chuckled darkly, spreading his arms, the blade falling away from Junmyeon’s throat.

As quickly as he could, Junmyeon let his dagger drop from inside his sleeve, spinning around despite the hand in his hair to drive the blade into the King’s chest.

Kai let out a scream of surprise and Junmyeon screamed too, when the blood that spurted from the black king’s chest spilled over his white hand.

He darted away, taking advantage of the king and the prince’s surprise to get free.

The black king was staring after him, smiling.

His gleaming, too white teeth were stained black, like the blood that now tainted Junmyeon’s skin.

“Your son has fire, Jungsoo,” he grinned, lips stretching grotesquely.

“I _like _that.”

Junmyeon stumbled into his father’s arms, eyes wide with horror.

The king seemed completely unaffected by the dagger in his chest.

In fact, he only seemed amused.

“Papa, what do we do?” Junmyeon asked, trying to regain his composure. His shoulder still twinged and his scalp hurt.

“Can he be killed?”

Before his question to be answered, a purple blast exploded before them, his father barely throwing up a shield in time to keep them from being hit.

“You fetch Yixing and that cobbler and leave this place at once, do you hear me? You should never have come.”

His father’s voice was a low snarl as he yanked something off his neck, shoving it into Junmyeon’s hands.

Junmyeon fumbled, nearly dropping the tiny thing. He pushed it into his pocket, gasping when another blast of magic was leveled at them, his father grunting at the impact.

“In my study. The desk-.”

A blast of magic sent the king skittering back, Kai running to his side.

Junmyeon tightened his grip on his sword when his father cast him a furious glance.

“There is a book that will explain everything.”

He grunted in pain when another blast shattered against his shield and white exploded from his fingertips, sending Kai onto his back.

“One more thing, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon cringed back and his father flung up an arm to shield him when his shield shattered, fragments piercing his flesh.

“Don’t trust the priests. Now go!”

Junmyeon’s heart stuttered.

“But father-,” he tried but his father cut him off.

“Go now!”

Choking back tears, Junmyeon darted out while his father kept the King’s attention.

He had barely snagged Yixing’s arm when white hot pain flashed up his shoulder, a scream tearing from his throat.

He managed to keep his footing, even when the pain threatened to send him to his knees.

“Junmyeon!” His father’s cry was a roar but Junmyeon tuned him out, focusing on breathing in and out, trying to filter out the pain.

He dragged Yixing into his arms, his brother’s skin so white that he might as well be a ghost.

Yixing was dead weight in his arms as he tried to lift him, screaming aloud when his shoulder protested at the weight.

“Your Highness,” Yifan was suddenly beside him, his lips pinched with pain.

His side was a mess, mangled and bloody and he was limping.

“Let me hold him,” he murmured and Junmyeon yelped when Yifan’s left leg buckled, threatening to collapse.

“You can’t! You’re hurt,” he gasped when Yifan merely grunted, his eyes screwing shut in agony when he hefted Yixing into his arms.

“We have to go,” he gasped.

Junmyeon glanced back at his father, fiercely battling back Kai and the black king and his hand ached for the dagger he had left in the king’s chest.

“You go, I have to-.”

“No. You must come. You are the heir to the kingdom. They need you. Your _brother _needs you,” Yifan’s tone left no room for argument when he grabbed Junmyeon’s wrist, pulling him along.

“No, but- but Father!” Junmyeon turned just in time to see his father unleash a blast that sent Kai flying across the room.

“Your father was right. You should have never come. I should have never brought you here,” Yifan hissed in pain, stumbling and staggering towards the doors with Junmyeon at his side. His knee buckled and Junmyeon yelped when he nearly dropped Yixing.

“When he finds out, I’ll be dead.”

Junmyeon climbed into the boat, taking his brother from Yifan’s arms as the cobbler shoved them off the bank, barely making it on board in time.

He reached for the oars but Junmyeon got to them first.

“You sit and rest. Your wounds are severe. I do not understand how you are even still conscious,” he scolded.

Yifan flashed him a weak smile.

“I have a high tolerance for pain?”

Adrenaline surged through him when a figure appeared in the doorway of the ballroom and began running towards them, teeth bared in an ugly snarl.

A thrill of fear shot through him and Junmyeon rowed, as hard as he could, the pain in his shoulder fading in the wake of the adrenaline surge.

The boat was heavy with the weight of three people and Junmyeon's arms were aching, his clothes soaked with water by the time they had crossed the bank.

“How will Father get back?” he cried when he climbed out, staggering under Yixing’s weight.

Yifan steadied him, clasping a hand to his side with a curse that made Junmyeon’s cheeks flush.

“Language,” he snapped and the cobbler chuckled weakly. The humour drained out of his eyes when he got a good look at the prince.

“Your Highness,” he gaped, “you’re bleeding.”

Junmyeon felt his shoulder, where Kai’s blade had grazed him. It was the same shoulder that the black King’s blast had seared over.

“Oh,” he said very quietly when he felt it.

There was a lot of blood.

If he turned back to look in the gondola, he would see bloodstains on the rim of the boat where his shoulder had been positioned as he rowed.

He could smell it too, the metallic tang too sharp and overwhelming.

“We best hurry,” Yifan said, reaching for Junmyeon’s elbow, “don’t faint, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon shook off the nausea that pitched through his stomach and allowed himself to be dragged along by his uninjured hand.

They stumbled through the forest, half dead with exhaustion and wounded.

Junmyeon had never been more glad to see stairs in his life when they finally came upon the stone steps leading back up to Yixing’s bedchambers.

“Your Highness, quickly!”

It was a priest, standing at the foot of the stars.

His eyes were wide and anxious when they reached them, helping to steady them as they climbed.

There were more priests, when they emerged from the stairwell, the white robes they wore near blinding after so long in a realm without light.

“Quickly, we must seal it before the evil escapes!”

Junmyeon whirled around so suddenly that the priest grasping his waist nearly slipped.

“What do you mean seal it?” he cried.

“Father is still down there!”

Another priest came up to him, eyes lit upon the ugly wound in his shoulder and the blood staining his hands.

“His Majesty summoned us before he went,” he said solemnly, “and he asked that we seal the gateway when you arrived back, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon let out a strangled cry.

“How will he get out then?” he demanded, trying to fight the hands that were reaching to grab him, to calm him.

“How will Father come back?”

The silence of the priests was heavy enough to crush the very wind from his lungs.

He lurched, struggling out of the priests’ grasping arms in an attempt to return to the staircase but there were too many of them and he was tired.

_So tired._

His knees buckled and he burst into tears as he fell, the many hands catching him. His mind was blurred and his blood was roaring in his ears.

How could he lose his father now, when they had only barely just grieved for Mother?

“Father,” he choked, “Papa!”

He could still hear his father in his mind, screaming for him to go when he sank into the abyss of darkness, the priests’ alarmed cries ringing in his ears.

-

When he came to, he was lying in his own bed, the covers pulled up to his chin.

There was a warm body next to him, stirring when he sat up.

Junmyeon could not remember ever being so sore.

His muscles ached, his head throbbing as if someone was swinging a pickaxe at his skull.

When he moved, his shoulder screamed, hot flashes of pain exploding through his nerves.

Junmyeon bit back a cry of agony, fingers clenching in the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Your Highness.” The golden head at his side lifted and he turned to see Yifan blinking bleary eyes at him.

“Yixing,” he gasped, “Father, where- where are they?”

“Your brother is in the priests’ care.” Yifan’s expression was unreadable, “they do not know if he will wake up yet.”

Junmyeon’s chest felt like it was being crushed beneath a sledgehammer and he had to swallow before speaking once more.

“Father?”

Yifan’s gaze softened, the corners of his lips down turning.

“He has not yet returned,” he said, and Junmyeon’s heart stuttered. He tried to keep his composure.

“Baekhyun?”

“Asleep in his bed.”

“I want to see Yixing.”

Pain was lancing through his body, hot flashes that made him break out in cold sweat but Junmyeon needed to know.

He had to know that his brother was safe and alive.

“Your Highness!” Yifan yelped when he slid off the bed and his knees buckled upon contact with the ground.

He grabbed him and they both gasped in pain.

“What are you doing out of bed when you’re still hurt!” Junmyeon scolded when they got to their feet, catching hold of the bed to keep his balance.

Yifan gave him a pained, crooked smile.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said quietly and Junmyeon settled.

“What about?” He asked stiffly.

“Your brother.”

-

The world was dark when he awoke and there was a warm body beside him, cuddled right up against him.

His neck felt wet, as if someone had wept over him, leaving tear tracks on his skin.

Yixing rolled over and groaned, pain filtering through his nerves.

He was sore and aching and his feet had never hurt so much in his life.

“Yixing?”

The sheets rustled and Junmyeon emerged, hair tousled, eyes red and swollen as if he had been crying.

The guilt struck him immediately.

“Hyung,” Yixing murmured faintly, reaching for him. He did not even noticed that he was crying until Junmyeon had him in his arms, holding him so tightly that he could scarcely breathe.

“How much do you remember?” Junmyeon asked, wiping his tears gently, “you’ve been asleep for seven days.”

He too, looked exhausted, as if he had not gotten much sleep at all.

“Seven… days?”

Yixing stared, boggled.

He remembered in flashes, of purple and silver and the crimson of Yifan’s blood when he lay on the ground, unresponsive.

He remembered Kai’s fingers in his shirt, the cold of the marble floor when he had struck it and a white blast before everything faded away.

“How did we get out?” he asked softly.

Junmyeon’s face was pale in the moonlight, his dark hair flopping into his eyes when he said the words that chilled his blood.

“Father saved us.”

“Father?” He stared.

“What do you mean? How- How did he-?”

“He summoned the priests. He opened the gate and came down and- and fought the black king,” Junmyeon stuttered, stroking his brother’s cheek.

His gaze was far away and so full of pain that Yixing’s stomach pitched.

“How did he-. Did he know all this time? Where is he? Where is Father, hyung?”

His brother’s face crumpled and Yixing’s heart dropped.

“No,” he murmured, “no, no!”

Junmyeon was crying silently, weeping tears that gleamed in the moonlight as he clung to him, guilt and pain welling up in his chest.

“No.” Yixing did not know what else to say.

Junmyeon pulled him against his chest when he began to cry too, body trembling as he buried his face into his brother’s chest.

“I- I didn’t even get to see him. I didn’t tell him I was sorry-,” Yixing stumbled over his words, disbelief clawing through the guilt.

“Tell me it’s not true, hyung. _Tell me._” He let out a heart wrenching sob and his fingers curled tighter into Junmyeon’s night clothes, nails digging into his flesh.

Junmyeon shook his head.

How could he lie?

The gateway was sealed.

No one could ever go through again.

There was no way in or out.

Yixing broke at the look on his face, great heaving sobs tearing out of his chest that had the priests running in with looks of displeasure on their faces.

“He is still not strong, Your Highness. He will make himself ill again if he cries like this.”

Hands wrapped around Yixing’s arms, making to pull him out of his brother’s embrace but he fought them weakly.

“Leave me alone!” he screamed and the priests released him, startled.

“Your Highness, you need more rest-.” The rest of their words fell on deaf ears as Yixing clung to his brother, seeking comfort that he did not deserve.

Junmyeon held him through the night, stroking his hair softly as if it could lessen the ball of guilt that sat heavy in Yixing’s throat.

Sometime during the night, the door to the room creaked open and Yixing stirred awake to see little Baekhyun scampering across the room.

His face was wet with tears and he was sniffling as he climbed up onto the bed, crawling into Yixing’s open arms without a word.

It was very reminiscent of them lying together in bed after Mother’s death.

Yixing pressed a kiss against Baekhyun’s hair and hugged him close, his brother burying his face into his chest.

“I want Papa to come back,” Baekhyun murmured softly, “he’s been gone a while.”

Yixing choked and beside him, Junmyeon was stirring.

“Go back to sleep, Baek,” he mumbled, as if his sixth sense already knew that Baekhyun had somehow escaped from his own room and into their bed, “the hour is late.”

Baekhyun sniffled a little more and snuggled down into Yixing’s arms.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy the next morning, when the priests returned to examine his ruined feet. They had wanted to speak to Yixing alone but Junmyeon had insisted on staying.

They all knew of the consequences of using black magic in the kingdom, a law that their father had upheld to the utmost degree.

To find out that their most beloved king had once been a part of a kingdom so dark that its history had been forgotten and erased was a blow to the entire court and all eyes would be on the crown prince and his brothers, just waiting.

Waiting for a statement or to see what they would do.

Yixing was grateful for his brother’s presence as the priests frightened him, with their bright white robes and grim expressions.

His feet were still dry and cracked, still blistered from his dancing and he was ashamed to show them. It was all evidence they needed that magic had been at play.

“How did you discover the gateway?”

The high priest spoke, his voice low. It was not accusing, not quite, but Yixing still trembled, gripping his brother’s hand tightly.

“He came to me,” he stuttered, “his name was Kai and he came to me after Mother-, after the funeral.”

Junmyeon’s hand was soothing against the small of his back as a scribe scribbled something onto a roll of parchment and the head priest continued, dark eyes boring into the prince.

“You did not open the gateway yourself, then?”

Yixing shook his head vehemently.

“No, sir. He came one night and frightened me. I thought I was having a nightmare. Junmyeon- Junmyeon came to wake me.”

He glanced at his older brother and Junmyeon nodded, holding him close.

Yixing winced, a spark of pain travelling up his leg when another priest traced a finger over a crack in his foot.

“I did. He was raving and ranting about a man in black that radiated fear. I thought he was suffering from a night terror.”

“And he came again. And you were not frightened this time?”

Yixing hesitated. He did not want to tell this man of the dream he had of Mother. It was far too personal, but Junmyeon nudged him.

“I- I dreamt of him. And Mother,” he said, tripping over his words. Junmyeon’s hand was sliding up and down his back encouragingly as he spoke.

“Mother knew him. She spoke of him fondly. And- and he asked if I would like to dance in his Castle Under Stone. I agreed and so he came.”

“Willingly?” The priest had his eyebrows raised and Yixing could feel his brow break out in a cold sweat.

“You willingly went with a strange prince, who turned out to be an unnatural creature from the depths of the underworld without a single thought of what it might cost?”

Yixing’s cheeks warmed and he cast his eyes down at his hands. His feet were throbbing when the priest released him and he tucked them under his robes once more.

His chest felt tight and it was hard to breathe under the scrutiny of the priest.

“He only wanted to dance, sir,” Junmyeon said stiffly. It was clear that he did not like the tone that the priest had taken with his brother.

The priest made an outraged noise.

“Dance! What a preposterous reason to-.”

“If I may remind you, good sir. This is my brother you are speaking to. He is still a prince. I do not appreciate the way you are speaking to him.” Junmyeon’s eyes were as cold as ice, his grip on Yixing’s hand tight.

The priest’s gaze levelled onto his brother and Yixing could breathe a little easier, exhaling quickly.

“His Royal Highness went down into an unknown realm with an unknown prince merely because he wanted to dance? You are all educated young men who would surely know better. So why else would he have gone?”  
  


Yixing stifled a gasp and Junmyeon’s expression darkened. The implication in the words were clear and if proven true, Yixing could be hanged for a multitude of reasons.

“Are you implying that my brother was in league with a creature of the dark when he was the one who suffered in their hands? I would choose your next words very carefully, High Priest.”

The room was silent, stifling and Yixing wanted out. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as his brother and the High Priest seemed to have some sort of a stare off.

“No, of course not, Your Highness.”

The High Priest lowered his head, as if chastised. Another priest brought over a wooden bowl carved with runes, setting it by Yixing’s feet as he spoke again.

“But the castle must be purified. If what you heard was true, our beloved king, may he rest in peace, was a dark creature himself. And you, my prince. I mean no disrespect, but you and all your brothers are half breeds of human and creature.”

Yixing yelped in pain when his feet were plunged into the wooden bowl filled with water. He did not know what was inside the water but it _burned._

It felt as if someone had poured a full bottle of brandy over an open wound, hot and cold at the same time. The pain snatched his breath away.

He screamed, grabbing for his brother’s hand as the priest yanked the bowl away as quickly as he had put his feet in, wide eyed.

“What have you done?”

Junmyeon’s anger was a tidal wave, washing over the room as he dropped to his knees to examine Yixing’s injured feet.

Yixing slumped back onto the bed, panting as his brother cradled his feet in his hands tenderly.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t know,” the young priest stammered, the wooden bowl of water half spilled onto the floor and his robes.

“What was that?”

Junmyeon demanded and the High Priest interrupted before the young man could speak.

“Holy water, milord,” he said mildly, his gaze drifting between Junmyeon and Yixing.

Junmyeon’s face paled and he released his brother’s legs, rising to his feet.

“Put some on my shoulder.” He undid his robes, shrugging it half off to reveal a jagged mess of skin on the shoulder that the Black King had blasted the flesh from.

When the priest did not move, he scooped up a handful of water, dripping it onto the scarred flesh.

His expression contorted with agony and Yixing grabbed for him when he swayed.

“Summon- Summon Yifan at once,” he managed to choke out as he wiped the water onto his robes.

The High Priest looked confused at the demand but complied.

Yixing hid his face into his brother’s shoulder when the cobbler limped through the doors, flanked by two guards and looking bewildered.

Junmyeon patted him, rising from the bed.

“Yifan,” he said, his voice much gentler, albeit still strained.

“I need you to put holy water on your side.”

Yifan stared back at him, possibly wondering if the crown prince had gone mad but Yixing’s breath hitched when he tugged up his shirt obediently, revealing a long, ugly scar that ran along his left side.

It was still red and angry looking, as if it was taking a longer time than usual to heal.

The guilt sat like a rock in Yixing’s stomach when the young priest held up the bowl and Yifan dipped his hand into it, smearing the water all over the wound.

There was no reaction.

Junmyeon’s face turned white and he gripped the bed post tightly, as if he might faint.

“Your Highness?”

“What does this mean?” Junmyeon demanded, his hand trembling as he lowered himself back onto the bed, his expression twisted.

The High Priest had lost his smug expression and was stepping forward to examine Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“It must be true then. Our king had been a creature of the dark. Only they burn with the touch of holy water.”

“And sunlight,” Yixing said softly.

He remembered how Kai would never step into his room whenever it came morning. The drapes were left open and often he would return with sunlight streaming across the room.

Kai would always kiss him goodbye half way down the stairs and he would return to his room alone.

When he could not make it up to his bed without help, Kai was always wincing and toeing around the puddles of light in the room.

“Sunlight?”

Everyone in the room turned to him and he nodded.

“Kai- the underground prince, he would never enter my room in daylight.”

“But Father never burned,” Junmyeon pointed out.

“He always had the drapes in Mother’s room open when she was ill. And his study had massive windows.”

“What did the Black King say exactly? The words are important,” the High Priest asked urgently and Junmyeon’s eyes fluttered close.

“He said he was his other half, something about us being sunlight and him being shadow. He put a lot of emphasis on us being his flesh and blood.”

“What does this matter?” Yifan cut in. His eyes were fixed upon Yixing’s face and Yixing could feel his cheeks warming and he cast his eyes down quickly, the swirls in the marble floor suddenly all too interesting.

“The prince is still weak. He should be allowed to rest.”

The High Priest’s eyes darkened.

“You are only a cobbler-.”

“No,” Junmyeon said from the end of the bed. He looked so very tired all of a sudden.

“He’s right. Yixing is still unwell. This is enough for the day. Please see yourselves out.”

The High Priest looked as if he was about to protest but one look from Junmyeon and he clammed up, pressing his lips into a line so thin they almost disappeared.

“Very well then, Your Highness. What will you have us do while Prince Yixing recuperates?”

“Do more research on the Black King and Castle Under Stone. Perhaps Yifan will help you. His family has connections to the white magicians.”

Junmyeon waved his hand, dismissing them.

Yifan bowed, almost mockingly when the High Priest started, eyes widening and held the doors open for him and his little procession.

Yixing curled up beneath the covers, exhaling with relief when the priests were finally gone and it was just him and his brother and Yifan.

_Yifan._

Yixing hid his face into the pillow. He could not face him.

Here was a man who he knew had given him his heart and he had snuck around every night, kissing some other man who promised him nothing.

Junmyeon seemed to be able to feel the tension in the room thicken as he rose slowly to his feet, pressing a kiss against Yixing’s head.

“I will leave the two of you to talk,” he said quietly and Yixing wanted to cry out and beg him to stay.

Shame was a river coursing through his body as he heard Yifan’s uneven footsteps come closer, the door closing gently behind his brother.

“Are you alright?”

Yifan held out a hand as if he wanted to touch but was unsure if he was allowed to.

Yixing nodded mutely, his fingers squeezing tighter round the covers.

He did not dare to turn and look at the cobbler’s face when he sat down at the very edge of the bed, so close that he could feel heat radiating from his body.

“Are you?” he managed to croak out, gesturing vaguely at him.

“That looked painful.”

Yifan smiled but it was without mirth.

“It was.”

The silence was heavy and Yixing felt as if he was suffocating in it.

“Yifan, I-,” he started and the man raised his hand a little.

“You’re not obligated to explain yourself to me, Your Highness. You are a prince and I, only a cobbler.”

The title stung, more than it ever had.

Yifan used to say it fondly, not like this, formal and stiff.

“I do.” Yixing sat up, reaching to grasp his hand, “I do because I care about you, Yifan. And I- I am _so _sorry.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“I never felt anything for him. Nothing like I felt for you. Yifan, I promise my feelings for you are real. It wasn’t a game to me.”

“It sure seemed like one,” Yifan’s tone was frosty and Yixing hung his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I truly am.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I left. For a time,” Yifan said and Yixing looked up, terrified.

“What, no!”

He squeezed Yifan’s hand close to his chest.

“Yifan please, I need you here. Everything’s falling apart and I’m afraid- I’m afraid.”

Yifan’s eyes burned with an intensity that Yixing had never seen before but he held his ground.

First Mother had left them and now Father was gone.

He was not sure he could survive losing another person who was important to him.

“Please stay,” he pleaded weakly.

Yifan kissed his knuckles, his tone still stiff but there was compassion in his eyes as he tugged the covers over Yixing’s shoulder, tucking him in.

“You must rest, Your Highness. We can talk more when you’ve recovered.”


	3. The Temple's Treachery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposing the secrets of the household brought more trouble, this time, in the form of the priests that were sworn to protect the crown.

Junmyeon was fretting in the library, nose deep in a book when Yifan found him. His shirt was loose, half falling from his shoulder.

The cobbler carefully tugged the sleeve up, startling the prince.

“Yifan.” He looked up, sighing in relief when he saw that it was just him.

Yifan had not missed the white robed priests standing outside the door. They had eyed him suspiciously when he entered.

“Are they guarding the crown prince from evil now?” he joked lightly and Junmyeon wrinkled his nose, shutting his book.

“The gateway is sealed. I do not know why they still insist on staying. They have men prowling the gardens as well and the High Priest seems to think that there is a chance that there may be another gateway elsewhere in the castle.”

“And you?”

The crown prince looked so tired as he set aside his book that Yifan felt a twinge of pity in his chest.

“I just want this to be over. The priests have been here for weeks, uprooting our lives and frightening Baekhyun. If they say that they have sealed the gateway, why must they continue to search for more?”

“Perhaps they are only worried for your safety, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon snorted at that and then clapped a hand over his mouth, glancing around him as if to check that they were alone.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly, shelving away his book.

A clatter from beneath them made him wince and Yifan raised his eyebrows.

“They are rummaging through the archives,” the prince explained, “I’m going to go through Father’s things.”

His words tripped a little and he choked, Yifan patting his back gently.

He could not imagine what the prince was going through, losing his mother to illness, almost losing his brother and then his father to unknown forces.

Junmyeon would be the one who would shoulder the responsibility of the crown now, until he was of age to be crowned king.

“If it is any consolation to you, I have made contact with a friend. One of the white magicians. He would be happy to purge the castle of any lingering darkness that the priests so fear.”

Junmyeon nodded as they walked, soft rustling following close behind.

The priests were following them and they made Yifan’s skin crawl with goose bumps.

“Must they follow you everywhere?” he asked lowly and the crown prince’s lips twisted.

“It is the High Priest’s orders,” he said, his jaw tight, “I cannot be rid of them.”

Yifan rolled his eyes.

He had heard stories from his mother about the High Priest, how much he valued his position and thought he was above everyone else.

This High Priest was fairly new to the position, after the previous one had passed on due to old age.

Passing by the temple meant hearing stories about how he mostly lounged about, looking important and only showed himself when someone needed something blessed or a vision to be dissected.

He held very little respect for the crown and only the king had been able to keep him in line.

But now the king was gone and the secrets of the royal household were being slowly exposed.

Yifan feared that something would happen to the princes if the priests continued to talk amongst themselves.

“Do they perhaps think you are tainted? That you would turn dark?” he asked when the door to the king’s study was pushed open.

Junmyeon did not reply, turning to level a glare at the priests who stood meekly behind them.

“I wish to be left alone for this task,” he said loudly and the priests trembled a little under his gaze.

“But the High Priest-,” one of them stuttered and Junmyeon fixed them both with his dark eyes.

“The word of the crown precedes the word of the temple. Please, leave us both.”

He folded his arms, watching the priests waver before they scuttled away, the multiple bracelets on their arms jangling.

“They must, don’t you think? Why else would he send people to follow me around? Word will get back to him that I sent his men away and I will be even more suspicious to him.”

Junmyeon strode into the study, his footsteps heavy with anger. He shut the door behind him and went over to the desk, rummaging around.

Yifan winced as he watched the prince pull out stacks of papers from the lowest drawer, tossing them carelessly onto the table.

“What exactly are you looking for, milord?” He asked when Junmyeon sank to his knees, yanking out the lowest drawer.

The drawer was mostly empty, save was a little black book, carved with symbols that were vaguely familiar to him.

“This,” Junmyeon said softly, his tone wavering as he traced his fingers over the symbols.

There was a tiny spark and the cover cracked open, revealing pages upon pages filled with spidery writing.

The prince touched the words reverently and Yifan could see tears shining in his eyes before he stood abruptly, shoving the book inside his robe pocket.

“Father gave me this.” He opened his palm so that Yifan could see the little golden key sitting in the middle of it.

“He said it opens a chest in Mother’s closet.”

The fact that they managed to sneak out from the King’s study to the Queen’s chambers was no mean feat as the palace was suddenly filled with priests in their white robes, strutting about as if they owned the place.

Yifan stood guard by the door while the prince opened the closet. He could hear him fiddling about until the key clicked in the lock.

“Papers. Another book and goblets? Some jewelry- oh!”

Abandoning his post, Yifan returned to Junmyeon’s side to watch him pull out an open silver locket and several branches like the ones of the silver trees they had seen from the underground.

“This-,” Junmyeon stuttered, staring at the tiny picture in the locket.

It was old and dusty but the face was still undeniably the same.

It was the Black King.

“Oh dear,” Yifan said very quietly.

“He was telling the truth,” Junmyeon said, still shell shocked.

There was a heavy knock on the door before Yifan could comment and he had never seen the prince look as terrified as he did in that moment.

He dropped the locket back into the chest, twisting the lock back into place, sliding the cord of the key over his neck just in time when the door swung open.

The High Priest stalked into the room, his eyes dark and glittering as he took in the two men crouched on the floor beside an old worn chest.

“My followers tell me you sent them away,” he said icily, cold eyes sweeping over the prince.

Yifan has to resist the urge to put his fist into the priest’s face at the blatant disrespect he showed to the prince.

“Am I not allowed privacy in my own home?” Junmyeon asked stiffly, rising to his feet.

He looked like the epitome of royalty, even with his tired eyes and ruffled hair.

The Priest’s eyes narrowed.

“Not after our beloved king had to die to seal in an ancient evil that manifested in this home, no.”

Yifan sucked in a breath and Junmyeon’s jaw tightened.

“So you think I was responsible for opening the gateway?” he asked, his tone sharp.

“If It were not your brother, who else could it be? Why would the gateway open on its own?”

“My brother spoke explicitly of this, did he not? The underworld prince sought him out, reasoning of which we do not know.”

“Prince Yixing is still weak from his injuries, recently awoken from fever, those are reasons enough to doubt the authenticity of his statements.”

The blatant contempt in the High Priest’s tone was enough for Yifan to bristle in fury. He was about to tell the Priest exactly where he could shove his opinions when Junmyeon gripped his arm, lips pressed thin.

“I assure you, High Priest. My brothers and I will stand nothing to gain from opening a gateway to the underworld.”

The High Priest raised an eyebrow.

“No? With your father dead, we would be forced to crown you earlier because the kingdom cannot be without a king.”

Yifan gasped in outrage at the accusation as Junmyeon’s face went very white.

“How dare you-.”

“You think I would murder my father. The man who has loved and cared for me all my life just for the throne?”

The High Priest regarded with ice cold eyes.

“You tell me, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon trembled where he stood and Yifan was about ready to _really _put his face through the priest’s face, decorum be damned.

The prince grabbed his arm before he could move however. He was still trembling but his voice was steady when he spoke once more.

“That is a serious accusation, High Priest. Perhaps it should be brought before the court. And the white magicians that are bound to visit the palace in light of recent events. You may present your evidence then. Until then, we are innocent until proven guilty. Have a good day.”

With that, he scooped up the chest and stalked out of the room.

Yifan sent the High Priest a glare that pinned him where he stood before hurrying after the prince.

“Your Highness.” He had to run to catch up with Junmyeon, who was striding away rapidly. How could someone of such a small stature move so quickly was beyond him.

Junmyeon’s eyes were glimmering with tears and Yifan fell silent, following as the prince collected a confused and sleepy Baekhyun from his bedroom, taking the chest that was handed to him.

“I want my brothers moved,” Junmyeon declared, shoving the doors to Yixing’s bedroom open so harshly that the servants jumped.

“Where to?” Yixing was sitting up feebly in his bed, hair ruffled, robes half open.

Yifan found himself blushing and looking away, freezing in the doorway.

“Somewhere away from the High Priest’s quarters. Preferably Father’s,” Junmyeon said, levelling his gaze at the servants around them and they scurried into action.

“What’s happening?” Baekhyun asked, rubbing at his eyes.

Junmyeon’s gaze softened when he spoke again, gentler this time.

“We’re going to share a room for a time, little brother. I hope you don’t mind?”

-

The days that preceded his healing were not peaceful.

Together, Yixing and Junmyeon read through the books and papers, with the doors bolted and their most trusted guards at the doors and windows.

The High Priest had not tried anything quite yet, nor asked them for the things that Junmyeon had carried out with him from Mother’s room but they could all feel the mounting pressure as they struggled to piece together Father and Mother’s past and find out what they truly were.

There were accounts from Father’s diaries that noted his days in the Underground Realm, the Black King his constant companion.

Yixing still had trouble reconciling the image of the Black King as a young man, desperate to hold on to his only friend.

Father had called him by name.

He had been a person and he had meant something to their father, once upon a time.

“Do you think-,” he paused in his page turning and Junmyeon looked up, “that the Black King orchestrated this just to get Father back?”

Junmyeon sucked in a breath, his gaze dipping back down to the book he held in his hand.

“I don’t know,” he answered slowly.

“But how did he reopen the gate? He said Father had sealed him in. Who opened that gate? And why?”

There were no answers.

The only answers they found were to questions of their parents’ heritage.

Father’s journal went into great detail on the woman he had met, the human princess who had attended a ball and stolen his heart.

He wrote of the Black Kong’s jealousy and anger when he found out, how he had fought to protect his love, venturing into the sunlit world to seek a way to unbind his soul from the darkness he had been born into.

“Do you think he loved Papa?”

Yixing asked, running his fingers lightly through Baekhyun’s hair.

His little brother was asleep in his lap, bored of his toys and books.

“Perhaps so,” Junmyeon replies, looking disconcerted.

He closed his book gently, leaning over to stroke Baekhyun’s head.

He barely stirred, only mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like Mama before falling silent once more.

Yixing glanced back at his book, his eye catching on the words princess and dance.

He frowned, bringing the book higher up to squint at the spidery writing.

His face grew paler and paler as he read and by the time he had finished the rest of the page, his hands were trembling.

“Hyung?” He said and Junmyeon looked up at once, something in his tone catching his attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I _did _open the portal.”

“How-,” Junmyeon read over the lines that he pointed out, eyes widening.

“Mother taught me this dance,” Yixing said, his voice trembling.

“She must have used this to open the portal to go and see Father.”

Junmyeon frowned, scooting closer.

“But Father- Father would have known then wouldn’t he? He kept asking where you went. If Mother went to the same place, wouldn’t he know immediately just from the shoes?”

Yixing shrugged his shoulders, suddenly terrified.

“I don’t know.”

Junmyeon chewed his lip.

“He might have known. He asked me where you went but he looked as if he already suspected. Perhaps that was how he knew where to find the gateway and open it.”

-

Junmyeon fretted over Yixing’s words while his brothers slept, staring up at he ceiling.

Sleep did not calm easy to him as he debated the merits of telling the priests that it had all been an accident.

Their words could be used against them. Yixing’s punishment would be worst if discovered.

They could twist his words and his brother’s life would be forfeit.

Swallowing the ball of fear in his throat, he turned over into his side, watching as Yixing slept on, his brows creased as if he was worried too, in his sleep.

He reached over to smooth them, wishing he could lift the burden from his brother’s shoulders.

Perhaps he would tell them that he had done it.

The thought had barely formed in his mind when the doors were slammed open, an army of priests storming into the room.

“What is the meaning of-, mmmph!” he screamed when a hand clamped over his mouth, his arms twisted behind his back as he was dragged from the bed.

He could hear the clink of chains and Yixing’s confused muttering as he was roused from sleep.

His eyes flickered to him and he screamed too, when a rough hand seized his hair, a ball of fabric shoved between his lips.

Junmyeon twisted in his captor’s grip, clamping his teeth down onto flesh.

The person who held him yelped and a heavy blunt force struck him in the back of his head, pain blossoming in his skull.

He struggled, dizzy with pain, too shocked to shout when a rag was pushed into his mouth.

Cold shackles snapped shut around his wrists and he thrashed, screaming wildly as Yixing was forced into his knees, a black iron collar fastened around his throat.

“Be still, Your Highness.”

The sight of a cold blade on Baekhyun’s throat was enough for Junmyeon to freeze mid thrash, his eyes widening.

The High Priest had his youngest brother by the hair, a silver dagger laid against his neck.

He was smiling when Junmyeon quieted, eyes glowing with hatred as he let himself be manhandled onto his knees, a similar iron collar clasped around his neck.

Baekhyun was trembling, his eyes shiny with tears and Junmyeon hated how helpless he felt when when they were dragged to their feet, his arms bound uselessly behind his back.

“Take them to the dungeons. They will be hanged by sunrise.”

The High Priest offered no other explanation, his expression haughty as Junmyeon was wrestled out of the room.

He tried to crane his head around to see his brothers but a sword point pressed against the small of his back, digging into flesh and he stumbled forward in the darkness with only rough hands guiding him.

The air grew colder and damper, smelling of mold and decay as they descended down to the cells.

His feet were freezing as he was pushed down stony steps, tripping and nearly falling flat on his face before he was yanked upright.

Humiliation burned his cheeks when the priests merely laughed, shoving him along.

He could hear Yixing behind him and Baekhyun crying bitterly and his heart clenched.

He was the eldest and he could not protect them.

A large heavy door was shoved open and he stumbled into the room, Yixing following close behind.

His wrists were manacled, shackled to the wall and the rag was pulled from his mouth.

Junmyeon’s heart skipped a beat when he realised that Baekhyun was not with them.

“Where is Baekhyun?” he demanded as the priests did the same to Yixing, his brother nearly collapsing into the floor, his face pale.

“Don’t you worry, Your Highness.”

The title was mocking as the High Priest stepped into the room, Baekhyun still in his grasp. He waved the dagger threateningly when Junmyeon lurched forward at the sight of the weapon so close to his brother, eyes burning with fury.

“What are you going to do with him?”

He could not stop the fear from leaking in his voice as he watched the priests leave them, Baekhyun dragged along with them.

His little brother was crying, his face streaked with tears and he wanted nothing more than to rip off his chains and hold him close.

“He’s your incentive to hold your tongue, Your Highness. If you try anything tomorrow, your brother will die first.”

“You’re a monster,” Yixing said softly from his spot against the wall.

He was shivering, his face pale in the moonlight but his eyes were hard and cold as he stared at the High Priest.

The priest only laughed.

“I am not the one who is half shadow.”

He waved mockingly and Baekhyun’s cries increased in volume as he was forcibly removed from the room and the door was slammed shut, the sound of a key turning crushing Junmyeon’s hopes.

“Yixing,” he struggled, taking a step towards his brother. Yixing looked as if he might collapse anytime, his face pale with pain.

“Are you alright?”

“My feet,” Yixing gasped, tugging weakly at his chains, “they ache so.”

His knees buckled and Junmyeon cried out in alarm when he fell, barely catching himself against the wall.

“Yixing.” Junmyeon swore when his chains yanked him back, too short to allow him to reach his brother.

Yixing was making short little pants, his injured feet peeking out from beneath his sleeping robes.

They looked red and raw, as if they had not been healing at all.

“Language.”

His brother gave him a watery smile but Junmyeon could not bring himself to return it.

“What are we going to do?”

-

Yifan thought it strange the moment he set foot in the palace, the amount of priests milling around, before the sun had even risen.

There were loud construction noises, the sounds of hammers striking against nails coming from the front of the palace, where the courtyard was located.

The priests were dressed in mostly ceremonial robes and cast him suspicious glances when he entered, carrying a wooden box.

It was mostly for show, a reason for him to visit the princes.

Yixing would have no need for dance shoes for a long while, while his feet healed but Junmyeon and Baekhyun still did, if only just for leisure.

He carried them up to the former king’s chambers, surprised to see the door wide open and unguarded.

“Why are you here?”

The High Priest’s voice greeted him, cold and unfriendly.

He was standing by the window, silhouetted by the sun, his robes milk white.

“I do not answer to you,” Yifan replied sharply, “where are the princes?”

“You are only a cobbler. Their whereabouts are none of your concern.”

The High Priest did not even turn to face him, his tone flat and expressionless.

Yifan forced down the ball of panic in his throat even as his fingers gripped the edges of his box tighter.

“I’ve come with their shoes. Prince Junmyeon asked for them to be delivered,” he lied smoothly and the priest shrugged his shoulders.

“There will be no need for that. The princes are to be hanged at sunrise.”

“What?”

Yifan could not help his shock, nearly dropping his box. He fumbled and the priest turned to him, his expression eerily calm.

“On what grounds?” he asked hurriedly. Junmyeon was a smart man, he would never have voluntarily revealed anything. The priests had to be bluffing.

“Black magic. The second prince opened that portal and his elder brother must have had a hand in it.”

“Where is Baekhyun then? He is only a child.” Yifan swallowed down his fear, anger a growing flame in his belly.

“In his room. He’s been wailing.” The priest waved his hand dismissively and it took all of Yifan’s willpower not to drop his box and bolt.

Instead, he turned calmly, stalking out of the room without thanking the priest, his mind whirling.

Chanyeol was due to arrive anytime soon but he feared that he would be too late.

The magician would be able to discern whether the princes were telling the truth. He could save them but time was ticking.

Breaking into a run, Yifan hurtled down the hallways, racking his memory desperately for the location of Prince Baekhyun’s chambers.

He could not imagine what proof the priests had to execute the older princes and there was no word from them, even from their most trusted guards.

Yifan managed to find his way to the hallway which had contained Yixing’s old bed chamber and he remembered Junmyeon mentioning that he could hear Baekhyun crying from down the hall in the middle of the night.

Gritting his teeth, he hefted the box and hurried down the carpeted floor.

“Baekhyun?” he called as loudly as he dared and a soft cry answered him.

“Yifan hyung!”

There was pounding on the nearest closed door and Yifan exhaled with relief, setting down his box.

He leaned against the door, rattling the doorknob.

It was locked.

“Are you alright, Baekhyunnie?”

Baekhyun wailed back.

“I want hyung!”

Oh dear.

He could hear the young prince whimpering from his side of the door, heaving sobs tearing from his throat.

“Where are your hyungs, Baekhyun? I need you to stop crying and tell me where they are.”

Yifan tried to keep the frustration from his tone. He did not want to frighten him further.

“They- They locked them up,” Baekhyun sniffled, his voice muffled by the wood, “the priests.”

He sobbed a little.

“Can you get me out, Yifan hyung? I want Junmyeon hyung.”

Yifan’s heart cracked a little for him.

“I can’t right now but I will, alright? I’ll bring both your hyungs.”

Baekhyun sniffled loudly and Yifan pressed a hand against the door.

“Be brave, Baekhyunnie. You’ll be okay. I’ll be back soon.”

He heard the youngest prince make a sound of affirmation.

“Please come back quickly.”

“I will, Baekhyunnie.”

With that, Yifan left his box at the door, sprinting down to the ground floor.

He ducked around a pillar to hide from a herd of priests heading his way and scurried off to the kitchen.

The cobbler had no idea where the dungeons were located but the palace staff would.

They were already disgruntled about being ordered around by the priests, enough that they would give him aid if he explained where the princes were being kept.

But before he could say anything, he caught a glimpse of the sunlight glinting in from the kitchen window, the sound of a bell tolling through the entire palace.

“The poor dears,” the cook sighed, “that’ll be them now.”

Yifan’s blood ran cold.

“What’s happening?”

He asked as the staff vacated the kitchen, all of them sniffling and walking towards the front of the palace, where he had heard the tinkering sound from earlier.

“The execution. The princes are to be hanged. Poor dearies.”

A dish washer shook her head and the cook wiped her nose on her apron.

“Handsome young lads too.”

Yifan did not stay to hear them lament any longer.

He ran, as fast as his legs could carry him to the courtyard, his heart in his mouth.

There was a massive crowd gathered, the hangman’s noise already erected in the middle.

The bell tolled once more he turned to see the Head Priest appear on the balcony, regal and almost noble looking in the rising sun, holding little Baekhyun by the hand.

The young prince was still crying, the sunlight reflecting off the tear tracks on his face.

“Hear ye. The princes are hereby declared guilty of treason against the king! Long live our king and may he rest in peace!”

Yifan had never wanted to do anything more than punch the smug smile right off the priest’s face.

He watched as the bell tolled for the last time and the great doors were pushed open, two rows of priests appearing.

His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach when Junmyeon appeared first, a rag stuffed in his mouth, arms chained at his back, barefoot.

He stumbled and the priests caught him, pushing him forward.

Junmyeon’s hair was mussed and the back of his robes were damp with sweat as he struggled weakly, his eyes flickering up towards the Hight Priest with hatred.

His struggling ceased when the priest made the tiniest gesture towards his brother and he allowed the priests to drag him up onto the wooden platform built in the centre of the courtyard.

“Where’s your proof!” Yifan yelled out in desperation and the people took up the cry.

The princes were well beloved by the people and such an execution was devastating to the kingdom.

“Proof?”

Yifan’s heart dropped down into his stomach when the doors were opened once more and Yixing appeared, similarly garbed.

His hair was damp and he was limping badly, pain evident with every step that he took. His wounded feet peeked out from beneath his robes, the rough stones scraping at delicate skin.

“Here’s your proof! The princes are unholy creatures!”

Fury blossomed in Yifan’s stomach when a priest shoved Yixing onto his knees, yanking his robes aside to reveal his feet.

The people gasped as another priest approached him, bearing a wooden bowl carved with runes.

Yixing seemed to know exactly what was coming as he screamed into the gag, twisting and writhing with all of his strength as his brother watched helplessly from the platform.

But it was futile.

His shriek was almost animalistic when they poured the holy water over his injured feet, kicking and thrashing so wildly that Yifan feared he would injure himself further.

Junmyeon was yelling too, tears streaming down his face as he fought against the priests that held him to get to his brother.

“Would you like more proof?”

-

“No!”

Junmyeon shrieked, inaudible through the gag when Yixing went still, his body still shuddering and trembling from the agony of the burns.

He clawed at his bonds, helpless fury bubbling and boiling beneath his skin as the priests stripped him of his robe, baring the ugly scar on his shoulder to the people.

His breaths were coming out in heavy pants as he thrashed, arching and fighting as hard as he could to get free.

A hand clamped around his throat and he choked, his knees buckling.

He was pinned down, splinters from the hastily built platform piercing through his skin as he struggled, a priest approaching him with yet another wooden bowl.

“No.” He shook his head, pleading, his words muffled by the rag in his mouth. His cheeks were burning with humiliation when the priest merely knelt beside him, tipping the contents of the bowl right over his scarred flesh.

Fire exploded across his skin, his mind blanking as he screamed and screamed, seeing white as he thrashed against the priests’ iron grip.

It was pain like he had never felt before, hot and cold all at once, stealing the very breath from his lungs even as he screamed and fought like an animal, agony burning through his nerves.

“Do you see? Do you see how the holy water burns them? They are unnatural!”

The priest’s words pierced his ears as he lay there trembling, fight drained from his body.

Junmyeon wanted to scream his protests but all his mind could comprehend was the blinding pain searing across his shoulder, all the way through his body.

He could only squeeze his eyes shut and pray as he was hoisted to his feet in the wake of the silence and the platform creaked beneath his feet, too loud.

His vision danced with black spots as he was led over to the noose, his feet almost refusing to carry him.

The noose was lowered, draped around his neck, the rope rough against his skin and he could dimly hear Baekhyun and Yixing screaming.

_I’m sorry_, he tried to say when he locked eyes with Yixing, his brother half rising from the ground, staring at him in hopeless terror.

Baekhyun was restrained by the Head Priest, screaming his head off at the balcony.

Junmyeon wished that it could be more peaceful, if it had to end this way. He hoped that it would be painless.

“Oh dear. It looks like I might have interrupted something important.”

A deep smooth voice filled his ears and the priests at his side yelped, scattering.

The rough hands holding him in place had vanished and Junmyeon opened his eyes to see a man as tall as Yifan holding him upright.

The noose was carefully released from around his throat, the rag pulled from between his lips.

All eyes were on him and the mysterious man.

Junmyeon could only stare.

The man was handsome, his hair dark but tinted with hints of copper. He was smiling, as if the execution amused him and his hand was warm where it rested against Junmyeon’s elbow.

“Is this how you treat your royalty here? Sentenced without even a trial?”

He was addressing the High Priest but his eyes never left Junmyeon’s face, soft and gentle.

Junmyeon’s eyes flickered to the phoenix pinned at the collar of the man’s navy coat and his blood froze in his veins.

A white magician.

A white magician was holding him, staring at him, in the flesh.

He had never met any white magician before, much less one this young, with such an intense gaze.

“He is tainted, Your Grace. Half sunlight, half shadow, impure. We cannot have such a king, much less one who schemed to murder his own father.”

The High Priest’s tone was silky as he leaned against the balcony, beady eyes surveying the magician.

Junmyeon made a whimpering sound at the accusation and shook his head mutely.

A hand smoothed over his still burning shoulder and he flushed, ducking his head as the pain dribbled away.

The magician was cocking his head, elegant eyebrows raised.

“Oh? Was your last king not all shadow? Was he not a fair and just ruler?”

“He was a liar and enchanted us all. A creature from the depths who married our beloved princess to become king.”

That was enough for Junmyeon to find his tongue.

“Don’t you dare-,” Junmyeon squirmed, wanting desperately to rip the priest’s tongue from his mouth.

Father had given up his life to save them.

He would not stand for the lies that the priest spilled from his wicked tongue.

The white magician cut him off, somehow even more amused than before.

“You cross yourself, Priest. If your king had been such a creature, would the slaying of such creatures not be hailed as heroic? If the crown prince had truly plotted to end his father’s life as you say, he should be a hero, no?”

The High Priest sputtered but the magician continued on.

“Yet you called him a half breed, a monster when he could not have chosen what he was born as, only the path he walked.”

Golden eyes swept over Junmyeon’s face and Junmyeon shivered a little.

“I felt it when the gate was opened, in the middle of the night. How strange, I thought, for the king to reopen the portal when he had sworn to my parents, that he would never return.”

“But the energy was different. It was… tainted, as you say. Not completely shadow but not sunlight either.”

Junmyeon felt his body tense when the magician laid his eyes upon Yixing, still sprawled out on the ground. His gaze lingered on his brother’s exposed feet and Yixing stiffened too, drawing them into his robes.

“And one could say, that this is an opportunity for the temple, could we not?”

The magician pulled his gaze back to Junmyeon and a shiver ran over the prince. He squirmed a little when a large hand traced over the ugly scar in his shoulder.

“With the princes out of the way, the palace falls to the temple?”

With a wave of his hands, the chains fell from Junmyeon’s arms and he stumbled, nearly falling off the platform in his haste to get to Yixing.

“Are you alright?” he gasped, tugging the soggy rag from his brother’s lips. Yixing nodded, clinging to him as well as he could with his arms still bound at his back.

The white magician stepped off the platform gracefully, his eyes pinned onto Yixing as Junmyeon cradled him close.

Before he could get to the princes however, several things happened at once.

The people surrounding the courtyard screamed and pointed and Junmyeon screamed too, his heart flying to his mouth.

The High Priest had Baekhyun in his grasp, his brother twisting and shrieking like a banshee.

“What do you think you are doing?” There was a waver in the magician’s voice as he watched Baekhyun struggle in the High Priest’s arms, held high above the balcony.

The High Priest’s voice was eerily calm as he surveyed the horrified crowd.

“What do you think?”

Junmyeon lurched to his feet, his blood roaring in his ears as Baekhyun teetered dangerously, writhing like an eel in the High Priest’s arms.

“Don’t-,” he cried out, flinging his arms out.

As if in slow motion, Baekhyun shrieked and toppled from the balcony, pushed off by the very man who had sworn oaths to the temple to be pure and kind.

The people screamed even as the white magician flung out his hand, a blast of magic exploding from his fingertips to wrap gently around the falling prince.

A figure dashed out of the crowd towards them, arms held out to catch Baekhyun and Junmyeon could have cried with relief.

“Yifan!” He stumbled towards him as Baekhyun floated closer and closer towards the ground.

But before he could reach them, the bubble wavered and Junmyeon yelped, his blood running cold.

There was a flurry of movement, priests fleeing as their robes rustled in the wind.

The magician made a choked noise, the magic surrounding Baekhyun flickering rapidly.

His eyes were blazing with fury when he doubled over, one hand pressed to his side.

“You blasphemous-.”

Baekhyun screamed when the bubble went out and he free fell the rest of the way, slamming hard into Junmyeon’s arms.

Pain blossomed up his injured shoulder and Junmyeon cursed, biting down on his lower lip so hard that he tasted blood in his mouth. He wobbled and fell, twisting so that he cushioned Baekhyun with his own body.

“Hyung!” Baekhyun was crying so hard that his tears soaked into Junmyeon’s robes, his little arms flung around his brother’s neck so tightly that Junmyeon could hardly breathe.

“You’re okay,” he managed to croak out as spots danced in his eyes.

There were hands on him, Yifan’s concerned face appearing in his spotty vision as he carefully pried Baekhyun from his body.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Baekhyun was wriggling, trying to get free so that he could get back to Junmyeon but Yifan held him fast, trying to shush him as Junmyeon tried to support himself.

“I think-,” he grimaced, his shoulder protesting when he managed to sit up on one arm.

“I think I’m going to faint.”

-

Yixing squirmed in his chains, crying out when Junmyeon collapsed.

His eyes caught on the magician, who swayed as if he might follow, deep red blood trickling from his side.

The magician waved his hand weakly and his chains vanished.

The people were gathering closer, murmuring spreading through the crowd as Yixing tried to drag himself to his feet.

Junmyeon was curled up on the ground, his eyes closed and for one terrifying moment, Yixing thought he was dead.

He stumbled, gasping through the agony shooting up his feet before falling to his knees beside his brother, caressing his cheek gently.

“Yixing hyung,” Baekhyun whined and reached out from Yifan’s arms and Yixing took him almost automatically, hugging him close.

Yifan was gone before he could say anything, moving to support the magician who was limping towards them, his face ashen. His lips were pressed together in suppressed fury as he yanked out the dagger stabbed deep into his side, dropping it with a clank.

Blood poured from the wound, dark red and staining the magician’s navy coat.

“It appears that the temple here is more corrupt than I thought,” he said calmly and Yixing clutched Baekhyun close, suddenly even more frightened.

“I- I’m sorry,” he tried but the magician waved him away, his gaze falling onto the unconscious Junmyeon.

“There will be a mess to clean up when he wakes. Send the people away and inform them that the crown prince will make a statement when he has recovered. I trust your palace guards have not yet deserted you?”

Yixing shook his head.

He was in awe of the magician, even as Yifan helped him indoors, with Junmyeon slung over his back.

The maids were silent as they drew him a bath, fleeing the moment he pulled the robes over his feet to step into the water.

He shed his robes, grimacing as the scented water stung his injured feet and chafe marks on his wrists.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he said without thinking, wondering if it was Baekhyun.

His brother refused to part from him.

Yifan had to gently coax him away, promising that Yixing would return after his bath.

He turned away to soap himself, when he saw the figure standing frozen in the doorway out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh- Yifan!” Yixing yelped and ducked beneath the lip of the tub, his cheeks flushing beet red. He thanked the lord for the copious amounts of bubbles in the water that hid most of his body from the cobbler, preserving most of his dignity.

“I’m sorry.” Yifan’s cheeks were red too, as he approached the tub. He had cast his eyes away, even as he held out a little silk bag to him, “but Chanyeol asked to give this to you. He said it would help with the pain.”

Yixing grabbed it quickly, ducking back beneath the bubbles.

“I- thank you,” he murmured and something in his tone made Yifan look up, his gaze kind and gentle.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” he said, taking a tiny step closer.

“It was an accident.”

Yixing pressed his lips together tightly.

Even in pain, the magician had insisted he tell him what had happened the night the the gate was opened. He confirmed that it had been completely accidental when Yixing told him he had merely danced a dance his mother had taught to him.

“She was a lovely woman,” he said softly, “my parents and I were very sorry to hear of her passing.”

Perhaps it had been the whirlwind of activity and the constant motion of everything happening but Father’s disappearance had not truly sunken in until the magician had spoken.

“Your Father was a good king. He would be very proud of you.”

“Can’t he come back?” Yixing had pleaded and the magician shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be wise to open the gate again. Besides, he made his choice.”

He could not find the words to reply, instead bowing his head to stare at the bubbles that popped between his fingers.

Yifan’s eyes burned as he stood and stared for a brief moment before stepping back.

“I should go,” he said and Yixing’s eyes snapped up to him, “I’ll see you outside.”

When the door had closed behind him, Yixing let himself slide beneath the water and the floodgates opened.

He cried himself out, letting the bath water wash away his tears before he rose, wrapping a bathrobe around himself.

The little silk satchel that Yifan had given him was still sitting on the ledge of the tub, where he had left it and he grabbed it before leaving the water.

He left wet footsteps all over the floor as he padded out, wincing.

Fingering the silk pouch, he turned it over, a little pot of cream falling into his palm.

“It’s for your feet.” Yixing’s heard jerked up in surprise. When Yifan said outside, he thought he had meant in Junmyeon’s chambers.

But the cobbler was standing in his closet, leaning against the entryway to the bathroom.

“Oh.” Yixing turned the pot over and over in his hand, unsure of what to say.

They had never finished their conversation the other day, of what had happened between Yixing and the underworld prince and what would become of Yifan and him.

Yifan cocked his head and held out his hand, a little hesitant.

“May I?”

Yixing dropped the pot into his hand wordlessly, splaying his fingers over Yifan’s other palm.

Yifan’s eyes burned as he led him over to a little bench in the closet.

Yixing had to fight down a blush when the cobbler went down on one knee, unscrewing the lid of the pot.

“The High Priest has been captured,” he said as he dipped his fingers into the cream, catching up one of Yixing’s ankles.

Yixing had to fight down the urge to draw his leg back under his robes as his scarred feet were exposed, speaking as calmly as he could.

“Yes?”

“The guards are rounding up the rest as we speak.” Yifan ducked his head, his touch gentle as he began to rub the cream into the soles of his feet.

The cream tingled pleasantly against his skin and the aching, burning pain began to fade. He was almost disconcerted, having grown so used to his feet aching that he had forgotten what it felt like to walk without his feet constantly protesting.

“Yifan,” he started, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Yifan’s eyes were pools of honey when he looked up at him, his gaze soft.

“What for?” he replied, “I wasn’t able to stop the prince from enchanting you. Nor was I able to even stop the priests from taking you into custody.”

Yixing sighed, reaching down to curl fingers around Yifan’s wrist.

“Don’t be like that.” He turned his hand over, pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist tenderly.

“I-, you’ve stayed. Even after my infidelity, after the accusations of witchcraft and black magic. You stayed even when you had no reason to anymore.”

Yifan stiffened and his tone was almost angry when he spoke.

“Don’t I?”

He rose to his full height, practically towering over Yixing.

“Have I not made my feelings towards you clear, Your Highness?”

Yixing’s heart dropped.

“Yifan, I’ve betrayed your faith. I’m not deserving-.”

“It isn’t always about you, is it? Your Highness? You wanted me to stay and I did.”

Yixing coloured, his fingers twisting in his lap.

“What do you want of me, Your Highness? I will serve you-.” Yifan’s tone had turned pleading and Yixing hated it.

“No. I- I don’t want you to cower like you are less than me,” he snapped, catching Yifan’s hand.

He tugged him closer, until the cobbler was eye level with him.

“Yifan, I didn’t want you to leave and I still don’t. I know you love me. And I you. But the last time we spoke you-,” he blinked a little, “you acted as if you wanted to leave. You were hurt.”

“I thought I’d lost you for good then.”

Yifan shook his head, his amber eyes burning into him.

“I was angry, Your Highness. I _was _hurt and upset. But I’ve had time to think, especially with everything that’s been going on.”

His hand trembled a little when he cupped Yixing’s cheek and Yixing leaned almost unconsciously into the touch.

“I’m more afraid of living without you.”

“Oh,” Yixing breathed.

They were so close now that Yifan’s breath was brushing over his lips. Anticipation was building in his chest as Yifan leaned even closer, until they were almost touching.

Yixing’s fingers clenched in his lap when Yifan finally kissed him properly, his eyes fluttering shut as a wave of emotion swept over him. He fisted his hands into Yifan’s shirt, tugging him closer.

It was a kiss unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Kai’s lips had never invoked such happiness or love within him.

“Yifan, I-.”

He was stopped by the closet doors slamming open.

“That is very inappropriate.”

The magician was standing in the doorway, arms folded, lips pinched. He glowered when Yifan backed away, going red in the face.

Yixing flushed pink and picked himself up from the bench, stumbling and nearly tripping over the little pot of cream on the floor.

“We were just-, talking,” he finished lamely when the magician raised his eyebrows.

“Your brother won’t be very happy about that,” he commented when Yixing passed him, pulling his bathrobe tighter around his body.

“I-, is he awake?”

-

The magician was far more handsome that Junmyeon had expected.

He was there, sitting by his bedside, still dressed in his bloodstained robes when he awoke, eyes burning into him.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said pleasantly when Junmyeon shifted, the covers slipping to pool around his waist when he sat up.

Junmyeon did not know what to say. There was a strange man in his bed chamber for gods’ sake and it was highly inappropriate.

“I-, are you alright?” he stuttered, eyes drawn to the stain on the man’s right side.

The magician grimaced, making a face.

“Your temple is far more corrupt than I thought it was,” he said by way of answer and Junmyeon’s face paled.

He pushed the covers away, swinging his legs off the bed.

“What did they do to you?”

The magician shrugged, easily catching him by the wrist when he wobbled.

“Put a knife through my side. But that never killed anyone so, I’m fine.”

“They did what?” Junmyeon had to sit down again. It was against the law to attack a white magician and often suicidal as they were the most powerful beings in the land.

“The High Priest has already been captured and now resides in the dungeons and the guards are now rounding up the priests that had been under his control. Yifan is very efficient.”

“Your brother is in the bath and Baekhyun.” The magician pointed a little and Junmyeon turned to see his youngest brother curled up on the bed, fast asleep. He laughed, a little wobbly as he climbed back onto the bed to stroke Baekhyun’s hair.

“Whatever shall I do?” he despaired as he drew Baekhyun into his lap, cuddling him close. Baekhyun stirred awake, mumbling a soft ‘hyung’ before falling back asleep.

The white magician shrugged.

“You are the king now. Whatever you want?”

Junmyeon turned to him, wishing he had his confidence.

“I’m not ready to be king. There was so much Father had to teach me and now he’s _gone. _He’s truly gone.”

His tears dripped into Baekhyun’s hair and his brother snuffled grumpily, waking up fully.

“Don’t cry, hyung,” he mumbled, squirming up to sit properly in his lap, “don’t cry.”

The white magician was watching him as he hugged his brother close, sniffling.

“I’ll leave you to compose yourself. Your brother and Yifan are taking too long.”

Junmyeon nodded, ducking his head as the magician vanished out the door, Baekhyun still patting his cheeks lightly to wipe away the falling tears.

“Will Papa come home?” Baekhyun asked quietly when the magician was gone. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and Junmyeon pulled it out before he could chew on it.

“No, Hyunnie. Papa’s gone to find Mama. It’s just us now,” he murmured, swallowing the ball of tears that threatened to rise up in his throat. It had not quite sunken in until now, that Father was well and truly gone.

The gateway was sealed. He was not coming home. They did not even know if he was still alive.

Baekhyun looked at him and gulped.

“Why’d he leave us here?” he sniffled, trying very hard not to cry. Junmyeon smoothed his hair, biting down hard on his lower lip.

“He had to, love. He had to.”

Baekhyun buried his face in his chest.

“I won’t cry,” he mumbled determinedly and Junmyeon laughed a little, watery and weak when coldness seeped into his shirt despite that declaration.

They stayed for a while before he could finally muster the courage to get out of bed and face the people.

“Junmyeon?”

The bedroom door opened and Yixing stepped inside, clad in a white tunic and neat brown pants. He was walking straighter than he had ever done in the past weeks and Junmyeon could not help himself.

He flung his arms around his brother and squeezed him into a hug.

“I’m okay, hyung,” Yixing murmured into his ear and he exhaled, squeezing him a little tighter.

“I’m glad,” he mumbled, “I’m so glad.”

The kingdom welcomed Junmyeon as their king, not without some hesitation, as he had predicted.

But with the white magician proclaiming his wishes to stay for an undetermined amount of time with several glances in Junmyeon’s direction, they were settled.

As per his father’s wishes in the little diary, Junmyeon let their ancestry be known, no matter how shameful the secret was to him.

His father had been kind and gentle and a fair and just ruler. The people had no fault with him and he hoped they would be just as kind to him when he ascended the throne.

The temple was overturned and renewed, the High Priest and his followers exiled following Junmyeon’s orders and Chanyeol, the white magician, had been making remarks about building his own following in the old temple.

Junmyeon could find no fault in that suggestion, giving the magician a full run of the place.

He had strange tingly feelings, like butterflies in his stomach whenever Chanyeol appeared out of nowhere in the palace, often just watching him from afar.

He felt that now, as the back of his neck prickled like he was being watched.

Junmyeon forced himself to stay focused for long enough to dismiss the servants working on the repainting of Father’s chambers before turning around to look in the magician’s direction.

“You’ll make a great king,” Chanyeol remarked when he strode towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.

He was leaning against a marble pillar, his eyes raking up and down Junmyeon’s body as he drew closer.

Junmyeon shivered a little, his stomach swooping at the attention.

“Is there a problem at the temple, Your Grace?” he asked, inclining his head.

“No. Everything’s taken care of. Yifan’s been doing very well with all the redecorations.”

“Oh.” Junmyeon swallowed his surprise, “does he intend to become a priest?”

He was not sure how that would work with Yixing. They slowly sliding into something resembling a stable relationship, with Yifan visiting every other day to bring flowers. He still made shoes but Yixing rarely danced anymore.

Even the white magician’s powers could not erase his trauma and the scars that the unholy magic had left on his feet. They no longer pained him but the scars would remain for the rest of his life.

Junmyeon himself still bore the marks from where the weapon and magic of the Black king had touched him.

“No. Can you imagine Yifan as a priest?” Chanyeol laughed and Junmyeon smiled, shaking his head.

“He merely wishes to stay closer to the castle. Having to travel every day to see his beau is taxing on him.”

“Speaking of which.” Junmyeon ducked his head when Chanyeol took a step closer.

“When will His Highness find his princess?”

His cheeks burned and he reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I haven’t thought about it,” he murmured softly. Chanyeol’s gaze made him blush and he looked away, pushing away the forbidden thoughts that he only let himself think of late in the night.

“Sure, you have,” Chanyeol smirked and his shoulder bumped against Junmyeon when he brushed past him, “get some sleep, Your Highness.”

Junmyeon bowed his head, squeezing his hands into fists when he heard soft giggling coming from above.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked when he looked up to see Baekhyun leaning over the banister, smiling at him.

Baekhyun looked as if he had been running, his cheeks ruddy and red. But his eyes were bright with laughter and it was enough to make Junmyeon smile.

“Nothing,” his brother said breezily and Junmyeon shook his head, watching him run away, his loose tunic blowing in the wind.

“Go to bed, Baekhyun!”

He yelled after him, smiling as he continue to wander the halls aimlessly, nodding and smiling at the servants when he passed them.

His feet brought him just outside of the palace and he found himself standing at Mother’s headstone.

To his surprise, Yixing was there too, kneeling before the grave. He was carefully arranging flowers on the headstone, so concentrated on his work that he did not notice him until Junmyeon was touching his shoulder with a gentle hand.

“Oh, Junmyeon,” he smiled, gesturing for him to join.

Junmyeon knelt beside him, touching the delicate flowers. He could recognise them as the same ones that Yifan had brought earlier that morning.

“Does Yifan know you’re decorating Mother’s grave with his flowers?” he asked and Yixing smiled lightly.

“He brought them for her, actually.”

“Oh.”

Junmyeon bumped his shoulder and his brother turned to look at him with a serene smile.

“Do you think Father is up there with her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

Yixing bowed his head.

“I hope so,” he said, nudging a stray flower back into place, “he would hate to be alive in that place.”

Because there was no body, there was nothing to bury, no grave or headstone to mourn at.

They would never know if their father was alive or already dead at the hands of the Black king, the man who had been his other half.

“But I know he would be very proud of you now, brother.”

He bumped his shoulder back and Junmyeon laughed, blinking away the tears.

The sky rumbled and soft rain began pattering onto the ground around the two brothers, the clouds sliding away just in time for the moon to spill its rays upon Mother’s headstone.

“Oh, look,” Yixing’s eyes were sparkling with tears, as he nudged Junmyeon, “Mother’s here.”


End file.
